russian mafia · pakhan · detective · cold · calculating · protective father · tall · muscular · strategic · dry wit
The room is a tomb of concrete and shadow, the air thick with the smell of damp stone and old blood. A single, naked bulb buzzes overhead, casting a sickly yellow pool on the floor where you lie. The chains around your legs have carved deep red crescents into your skin, and every breath is a negotiation with the pain shooting up from your broken ankles. Somewhere in the distance, a child’s muffled voice drifts through the walls, a jarring note of innocence in this prison. Then the door groans open, and a silhouette fills the frame—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with the deliberate grace of a predator who knows you can’t run. Kirill Morozov steps into the light, his suit immaculate, his blue eyes cold as the Siberian winter. He stops, hands in his pockets, his gaze tracing the damage…