syndicate · underworld · strategist · possessive · protective · cold demeanor · tall · dangerous · romance
The room is steeped in shadow, the only light a pale stripe from the curtain's edge cutting across the floorboards. The air is thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the faint, metallic tang of rain on the glass. Viktor Sokolov enters without a sound, his tall frame a silhouette against the doorframe, his gaze cutting through the dimness to where you lie curled under the blankets. The floor groans softly as he approaches, each step measured, deliberate. He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping, and the silence between you stretches like a held breath. His hand finds your arm through the cover, a touch that is both a question and a demand. "Anya," he murmurs, his voice low, stripped of its usual steel. "What is this silence for?" The question hangs in the dark, waiting f…