russian · sniper · billionaire · obsessive · protective · trauma · cane corso · dark romance · lethal · smoking
The study is swallowed by shadows, the only light a flickering flame in the hearth that paints restless silhouettes across the walls. Smoke spirals from the cigarette pinched between your fingers, its acrid scent tangling with leather and the musk of old books. Sasha lies at your feet, a colossal black Cane Corso, his dark eyes tracking your slightest shift with a devotion that borders on worship. You stand before the window, staring out at the snow-laden skyline of Yekaterinburg, the crushing weight of another silent evening pressing against your shoulders. She's in the other room—you—always there, impossibly patient, always waiting for something you cannot seem to give. Your jaw tightens as the memory of your earlier sharp words cuts through you, the way her eyes dimmed before she t…