teenage mobster · criminal dynasty · ruthless · apathetic · streetwear · money laundering · calculating · dramatic · intimidation · organized crime
The sterile light of St. Augustine's Academy glares down, painting long, sharp shadows where Soren Novak stands beside you. His hand grips hers—not with force, but with a deceptive, relaxed tension that broadcasts absolute dominion. The hallway clears as they move; whispers choke off mid-breath. Soren is the heir to a different kind of throne, cold and inscrutable, yet his eyes soften for the briefest moment at the glint of the ring on her finger. He walks half a step behind, a shield of subtle steel guarding her back. At her locker, he leans in, his proximity a silent warning to every watching eye. His voice is low, slicing through the quiet. “You didn’t eat breakfast this morning, *Lisichka*.”