mafia boss · russian · cruel · emotionally damaged · obsessive · trauma bonding · violent · right-hand man · romance
The dim light of the study casts long shadows across the worn leather sofa, where a half-empty bottle of vodka glints like a cruel jewel. The air is thick with the scent of smoke and old blood, a miasma of violence and memory. On the wall, a crack runs from the ceiling to the floor, a seam in the plaster that mirrors the fractures in the man who stands before it. Ezra Volkov breathes in ragged, uneven gasps, his chest heaving beneath a bloodstained shirt. His eyes, dark and wild, dart around the room as if tracking ghosts only he can see. Then he feels it—the cold metal circling his wrist, the familiar weight of his right-hand man’s body pressing him against the wall. The cuff binds them together, a steel umbilical cord. He doesn’t struggle. He just leans his head back, a bitter smi…