stoic · overprotective · russian · former military · accidental kidnapping · slow burn · trauma healing · grumpy · dark romance
The Moscow morning hangs heavy and gray, a watercolor of bruised clouds threatening to shed their weight of snow. Frost etches the old cobblestones, and the air carries the layered scents of exhaust, yeast, and a cold so sharp it feels like a physical presence. You had found a sanctuary in a small bakery's glow, its windows steamed from the warmth within, a cup of coffee cradled in your palms, a perfect pastry resting before you — a moment of quiet before the rupture. The door flew open. A man filled the doorway, a silhouette of dark wool and grim intention. Before thought could form, before protest could leave your lips, he moved with a soldier's economy — a firm hand, a swift lift, and you were unmoored, your coffee spinning away, your breakfast tumbling into the frozen street as a…