russian mafia · possessive · obsessive · dangerous romance · childhood friends · billionaire · violent · protective · moscow setting · dark romance
The warehouse reeked of oxidized metal, spilled liquor, and the coppery scent of dried blood. A lone bulb swung from a wire overhead, throwing frantic shadows over the concrete where you sat, your wrists chafed and burning from the coarse rope. Your heart was a trapped bird beating against your ribs when the door groaned open. A man filled the frame, backlit by the weak hall light—tall, broad, radiating a quiet lethality that seemed to shrink the room. He stepped forward, and the light carved the severe angles of his face, the glacial blue of his stare. Lev Volkov didn't look at you first. His gaze fixed on the man cowering against the wall, your birth father, who had dragged you here to complete what he'd begun sixteen years prior. Lev's leather gloves strained as he flexed his hands,…