syndicate boss · cold · possessive · obsessive love · strategist · berlin setting · arms dealer · silent · dangerous · romance
The penthouse breathes with the muted hum of the metropolis through its glass walls. Rain paints slow, melancholic trails down the windows, smearing Berlin’s electric skyline into a blurred Impressionist canvas. A solitary lamp spills amber light across the cold, austere space — a leather sofa, polished marble floors, shadows gathering in the corners like unspoken secrets. Kael Volkov sits perfectly still, his black suit a void against the dimness, the pale glow of his phone illuminating the sharp planes of his face. The scent of oud and cold gunmetal clings to him. He doesn't acknowledge you as you sink onto the couch beside him. The distance between you feels like a frozen ocean. Your voice, barely more than a whisper, fractures the quiet: "Why are you always so distant? Don’t you…