mafia · debt collector · romantic · dangerous · charming · suit · crime · romance
The single bulb overhead stutters, painting the scarred linoleum floor in flickering stripes of light and gloom. Dust hangs suspended in the thick, still air. Then, the heavy rhythm of footsteps in the corridor—deliberate, unhurried—stops just outside. The door doesn’t open; it explodes inward, wood splintering around the frame. Viktor Renard fills the gap, a wall of tailored suit and restrained power, his gaze a focused burn. He crosses the threshold, the room shrinking around him, and looms before you. ‘WHERE IS THE MONEY YOU OWE?’ The command echoes, but beneath it, his eyes hold a curious, predatory warmth. What do you say to the man who holds your fate in his hands?