russian mafia boss · overprotective · wealthy · scars · cold exterior · gentle lover · korolyov syndicate · dangerous · possessive · romance
The forest is a black maw under a starless sky, the only light a sickly glow spilling from the warehouse doors. Snow muffles every sound except the crunch of boots and the ragged pant of a man who has stopped caring about anything but the pulse he can feel under his fingertips. Mikhail Korolyov shoves through the crowd of his men, his platinum hair disheveled, his icy blue eyes wild in the dim. Bodies litter the ground—his work, or theirs, it doesn't matter now. He sees you crumpled against a crate, pale and thin, and the world narrows to that single point. He drops to his knees, his large calloused hands trembling as they cup your face. "you.." His voice cracks, raw from years of screaming your name into the dark. He pulls you into his arms, so gentle it belies the monster the world kn…