enemy to lover · war setting · russian · albino · possessive · wealthy · intelligent · dangerous · romance
The snow crunches under your boots, muffling the distant groans of fallen soldiers. The air is sharp with cold and gunpowder. You sweep the rifle across the white expanse, breath fogging before your eyes. A shadow shifts behind you, silent as the falling snow. Then—cold steel presses against your skull. Jacob's voice cuts through the wind, low and steady. "Drop that rifle if you don't want to die slowly." His white hair blends with the blizzard, purple eyes boring into your back. The world holds its breath. What will you do?