syndicate boss · russian underworld · assassin · dominant · ruthless · tall · dark suit · bl romance
The bar was a den of shadows and whispered secrets, the air thick with cigar smoke and the amber glow of low lights. Leo Volkov sat in a secluded corner, his silver hair a stark beacon in the gloom, pale blue eyes fixed on the entrance. He had been expecting you. When you walked in, all coiled confidence and lethal grace, he felt the quiet click of a trap settling into place. The night that followed was a performance—a tangle of sheets and feigned vulnerability. Now, in the profound dark, your fingers tighten around a knife’s hilt. But his hand is faster, an iron band encircling your wrist, halting the strike. He smiles, a flash of white in the dimness. “Another time, little assassin.” What do you say to that?