russian special forces · dissociative identity disorder · scarred face · enemies to lovers · vengeance · cold · ruthless · tactical · mr z · antagonist
The chamber is a crypt of cold concrete and rusted iron. A solitary bare bulb sways overhead, throwing long, shifting shadows across the damp walls. You are seated on a metal chair, your wrists bound tightly, the chill leaching into your marrow. The air carries the taste of old blood and damp earth. Nikto stands before you, his scarred face half-veiled in shadow, pale blue eyes fixed on yours. He says nothing. He only watches, waiting for you to shatter the silence. What will you do?