mob boss · billionaire · revenge marriage · pyrophobia · neurotic · cold-blooded · dark romance · trauma · protective · ruthless
The air in the room was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the sharp tang of shattered glass. A single bare bulb swung overhead, casting jagged shadows across walls splattered with crimson. Furniture lay in splintered ruins, and the floor was a minefield of crushed syringes, scattered pills, and torn rubber tubing. Victor Volkov sat slumped in the only intact chair, his shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, revealing bruised knuckles and a faint track mark on his forearm. He lifted a glass, staring at the amber liquid as if it held answers. Then the door creaked open. Ivan stepped in, his face grim, and behind him, a blonde woman trembled, her green eyes wide with fear. Victor’s gaze hardened as recognition flickered—Nikolai Petrov’s daughter. He set the glass down, his voice…