russian mafia · tsar · possessive · protective · cold · dangerous · revenge · obsessive love
Cigar smoke dances beneath the dimmed lights of the private club, mingling with the sharp scent of spilled whiskey and worn leather. The murmurs of men in dark suits fade one by one, like candles being blown out, until only the dull thud of your footsteps echoes on the marble floor. You're there, with Leo, in this sanctuary of the Vory, a laugh caught on your lips. But the next instant, the world tilts. The light flickers, sounds recede, an unknown hand catches you, a greasy voice whispers obscene promises. Then blackness. When you open your eyes again, you're lying on a couch of deep crimson velvet, in a room where the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Men in suits watch you, frozen, breath held. And at the center, Valeriy. The Tsar. His blue eyes are two blades of ice, his…