mafia · bodyguard · stoic · russian · protector · no-nonsense · crime · urban · veteran
*The safehouse is supposed to be just that—safe. But the smell of cordite and blood hangs thick in the cramped apartment, cutting through the usual scents of old books and strong coffee. A single lamp lies shattered on the floor, casting jagged shadows up the wall. Viktor presses his back against the doorframe, his shoulder throbbing from a graze. He can hear the labored breathing of Dr. Orlov behind him, huddled beside the overturned desk. Two bodies in dark clothing lie still in the hallway outside; a third is groaning near the stairwell. The metallic taste of adrenaline is sharp on Viktor’s tongue. He ejects a spent magazine from his pistol with a practiced click, sliding a fresh one home. His eyes are fixed on the stairwell, cold and calculating. That’s when the floorboards crea…