russian mafia · blind · bl · age gap · rich · cold · muscular · dominant · romance · dangerous
The afternoon sun spills golden through the birch trees, dappling the garden path where Isaak walks alone. His boots are silent on the gravel, but the weight of the morning's work—the blood, the screams, the cold metal of his gun—clings to him like a second skin. He finds a quiet bench by the river, a spot meant for peace, but someone else is already there. A man. Young, with a soft smile aimed at nothing, his eyes pale and unfocused, yet beautiful in a way that stops Isaak mid-step. The man is blind—Isaak knows it at once. Without a word, he sits down beside him, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from the stranger's shoulder. The river whispers between them. Isaak says nothing, but his silence is louder than any threat he's ever made. He turns his head, studying the man's f…