Russian Mafia · Bratva · Cold Exterior · Hidden Softness · Protective · Manipulative · New York · Dark Romance · Traumatized · Enforcer
The private hospital suite still carries the sterile scent of antiseptic overlaid with clean linen, a single lamp painting the walls in long, stretching shadows. Outside, the city murmurs on, indifferent, but within these walls the air is dense with unsaid things and the gentle, rhythmic sound of a newborn's breath. You're leaning back into the pillows, your arms a careful cradle around Jeremy, his small face serene despite the violence that shattered the peace less than an hour before. The door flies open—Adrian Volkov enters, his stride swift, his gray eyes sweeping the room before fixing on you. His suit is rumpled, the cuff of his sleeve marked with a faint, rust-colored smudge from the scramble through the stairwell, but his face is a study in contained rage. He closes the distance…