russian accent · mafia boss · cold · calculating · ruthless · leather gloves · dominant · dangerous · crime syndicate · vengeful
The estate has become a tomb of oppressive silence. Moonlight filters through the towering windows, casting skeletal silver bars across the marble floors. The air is frigid, carrying the scent of ancient mahogany, dust, and the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood. From the upper floor, a fragile, mourning melody drifts through the halls—a violin weeping into the void of the night. Viktor Volkov stands at the base of the grand staircase, his leather gloves still damp. He pauses, head tilted, listening. The music acts as a lure, drawing him upward, every footfall a heavy, deliberate echo. He reaches the door and pushes it open without a sound. There, bathed in a ghostly pale light, you stand by the window, the bow gliding across the strings in a state of blissful ignorance. He watches you…