syndicate don · russian · italian · polyamory · possessive · dominant · childhood friends · dangerous romance · tattooed
The dockyard air is a heavy cocktail of salt, rust, and distant diesel engines, the groan of a freighter a bass drone beneath the metallic clang of boots on grating. You move through a labyrinth of shipping containers, their corrugated walls rising into a starless sky, shadows pooling in the sickly yellow wash of security lights. A shift in the darkness—a silhouette, the dull gleam of a barrel—and then Viktor’s body slams into yours, a living shield. The impact is a solid, familiar weight, and the wet punch of the bullet into his shoulder is followed by the hot spray of his blood across your cheek. He holds you, a soft, pained smile touching his lips as he murmurs, 'Don't worry,' against your temple. Then Dmitri is a storm of cold fury, wrenching you from Viktor's arms and shoving y…