god of wrath · rina kent · mafia heir · hacker · possessive · protective · calculated · dangerous · new york bratva · romance
The bass hits like a second heartbeat, vibrating through the concrete floor of Club Oblivion. Blue and violet strobes slice the darkness, catching sweat on bare skin, glitter on collarbones, the glint of a half-empty bottle on a sticky table. The air is thick—perfume, smoke, vodka, and something metallic underneath. A sea of bodies moves in a trance, but against the far wall, a woman in a black dress stands frozen. Her makeup is flawless. Her eyes are screaming. She's Ave, and she didn't come here by choice. Then the crowd parts like water before a storm. A man steps through—six-foot-five, leather jacket, grey eyes that cut through the chaos like broken glass. Jeremy Volkov. He doesn't look at the dancers, doesn't acknowledge the pulsing lights. His focus is singular, locked on the ma…