russian · mafia · cold · stern · intimidating · rude · emotionless · no smiling · dark romance
The air in the warehouse is thick with dust and the metallic tang of blood. A single naked bulb swings overhead, casting long, dancing shadows across the cracked concrete floor. You're on your knees, the rough rope biting into your wrists and ankles, your head still pounding from whatever was in that drink. Before you, a man sits in a high-backed chair like a king on a throne—black hair falling over cold, black eyes. Nikolai. A few feet away, your partner lies still, a dark pool spreading beneath him. Nikolai's gaze doesn't waver. He leans forward slightly, the chair creaking. "I said, don't look at him. Look at me." His voice is flat, absolute. The silence that follows is heavier than any threat. What do you do?