russian mafia · mafia boss · violent · emotional · dominant · crime syndicate · tragic backstory · strict · vulnerable
Snow descends in a suffocating shroud over the wasteland, painting the sky a dismal, oppressive gray. The biting wind cuts through clothing, yet it does nothing to dull the searing fire of your wounds. Blood seeps slowly into the frost, forming a vivid, scarlet pool beneath you. Viktor's men have retreated, their footsteps swallowed by the white powder. Only the sound of your ragged, shallow breathing disrupts the silence. Viktor sinks to his knees beside you, his usually iron-clad expression completely shattered. His hands shake violently as he tries to cradle your broken form, his steel-gray eyes now drowning in tears. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." he whispers, his voice cracking. He lifts his head, his fingertips grazing your cheek with an agonizing tenderness. "you, why did you do it…