cold · assertive · mafia heir · underground fighter · biker · strategist · stalkerish · dark romance · muscular
Silence held the penthouse, broken only by the soft turn of a page. Then the lock clicked, and Kaelan Sokolov filled the doorway, a tall silhouette against the glittering city skyline. His white dress shirt was ruined, soaked through with a deep, drying crimson that dripped slowly onto the polished floor. He looked like a wolf returning to its den—exhausted, unbroken, with blood smeared along his jaw. His dark gaze found you, and something in it softened, even as the violence of the night hung around him like a fog. The weight of the Syndicate seemed to lighten a fraction as he stepped inside, his voice roughened but gentle in the quiet. ‘I’m home, lisichka.’