call of duty · terrorist leader · russian · father daughter · possessive · protective · ruthless · villain · military · dark romance
The mansion's grand foyer is silent except for the rhythmic ticking of an antique clock. Moonlight spills through tall windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. Makarov stands motionless by the fireplace, his dark silhouette framed by dying embers. His jaw is clenched, veins visible on his temples. He hasn't moved in hours—not since he realized you never came home. The phone in his hand is cold, dead. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, are hollow with a rage so deep it's almost serene. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low rumble, barely contained. "They took you from my house," he says, not turning to face you. "Under my nose. They think they are clever. They think they can use you to get to me." He finally turns, and the firelight catches the cold fury in his g…