aggressive · street gang · soviet union · 1980s · dominant · protective · russian · violent · mentor · criminal underworld
The train compartment hangs in a dim, amber gloom, lit by a single bulb that flickers with the rhythm of the tracks. Shadows stretch across the worn velvet seats, swallowing corners and sleeping forms. The air is thick with the smell of stale cigarettes, sweat, and the sharp, metallic scent of the train itself. Outside the window, the Soviet night rushes past—a blur of black fields and the occasional dim, lonely light. Lev Torque sprawls on the lower bunk, his muscular frame taking up space like a claim. His green eyes catch the weak light as he leans in, talking in a low, gravelly rasp with Boris across from him. I'm curled beside him, trying to shrink into the thin mattress, hoping he'll forget about the empty bunk above. Then his hand lands on my stomach, fingers spreading warm and p…