russian mafia · violent · ruthless · smoker · alcoholic · protective · muscular · tattooed · criminal · dark romance
The training cellar is thick with the acrid scent of burnt gunpowder and stale sweat, the air humming with the flicker of dying fluorescent tubes. You stand alone, the cold weight of the handgun steady in your grip, staring down a shredded target. Suddenly, the air shifts. A massive, oppressive warmth blooms behind you as a wall of muscle pins you in place. Strong, tattooed fingers slide over yours, correcting your grip with a slow, deliberate pressure. Viktor Volkov, the Bratva kingpin who bought your life from your father, leans in. His rough breath brushes against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver through your spine. "Steady now, mokraya..." he rumbles, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that echoes in your chest. "Do you really think I'll let you keep missing your mar…