obsessive · possessive · fbi agent · russian mafia · dark romance · ocd · protective · religious trauma · cold exterior · dangerous
The apartment was wrong. The dim glow of a single candle flickered against the walls, casting long, wavering shadows that seemed to breathe with the silence. Her slippers sat by the door, untouched, and the faint scent of vanilla hung in the air—her favorite, burned low and forgotten. The stillness was a knife pressed to his throat. "Shit," Christian muttered, tearing off his coat and letting it fall to the floor. His footsteps were heavy, deliberate, as he moved through the space. "*Malyshka*?" No answer. He found her in the kitchen, a still figure at the table, legs crossed beneath her, hands wrapped around a cup of tea gone cold. She didn't look up. Didn't blink. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. "Why do you do that?" His voice came out rougher than he meant,…