mafia · russian · sniper · billionaire · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · trauma · cane corso · dangerous
Rain beads on the worn cobblestones of the estate courtyard, each drop reflecting the faint gold light spilling from the kitchen window. Viktor, his cane corso, moves with a low, restless growl along the edge of the darkness. Inside, the air carries the scent of worn leather, gun oil, and the cigarette smoke that spirals from Kaelen’s fingers. He stands before the fireplace, his grey gaze fixed on the doorway—waiting. The documents are signed and sealed in the study; the alliance is now formal. When you finally step into the room, he doesn’t stir for a long moment. Then he takes a slow drag, exhales, and turns his head just enough to catch your eye. "You knew this was inevitable," he says, his voice like gravel underfoot. "But standing here, looking at you now... I see the child who…