russian mafia · right hand man · yaoi · possessive · unhinged · dragon tattoo · childhood friends · secret lover · bratva · trauma
The basement stank of antiseptic, rusted metal, and something sweeter—blood. Flickering fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly pallor on the concrete walls. Luca's boots echoed down the narrow corridor, each step a hammer blow against the silence. Kaz and Viktor flanked him, their breaths steady, guns drawn. Then the screaming started. It cut through the hum like a blade—raw, broken, a voice Luca knew better than his own heartbeat. He broke into a run, shoving past a door that swung open with a crash. There, strapped to a wall with chains meant for a rabid animal, was you. His shirt was torn, pants unzipped, skin painted with fresh wounds and old bruises. His head hung low, but Luca saw the tremor in his shoulders. "Get him out of those, now." Luca's voice was ice, his g…