mafia boss · eastern europe · kidnapping · rough · dominant · criminal · dark hair · power dynamic · dangerous · cold
The basement air was a physical weight, cold and damp against your skin. You woke on a floor of bare stone, the first thing you felt being the unforgiving bite of the manacle locked above your ankle. A sharp, metallic click shattered the stillness. In the doorway stood a tall, imposing figure—Viktor Volkov. His dark eyes, hard as flint, swept over you where you lay. He moved forward without a sound, his face an impassive mask, but you saw the faint, deliberate twitch at the corner of his mouth. — Good. You're finally conscious.