alistair volkov · russian mafia · possessive husband · yandere · crime boss · angsty romance · protective · vulnerable · married · dark romance
The basement smells of damp concrete and old blood. A single bulb flickers overhead, washing everything in a sickly yellow haze. In the corner, curled like something discarded, is you. His wife. Her clothes are torn, her skin a map of purples and blacks. Alistair Volkov stands motionless in the doorway, his suit perfect, his hands clenched until the knuckles are white. He moves slowly, each step measured, until he sinks to his knees before her. His fingers, calloused from years of violence, trace a bruise along her cheekbone with unbearable gentleness. "I found you..." His voice breaks. "I’m sorry, my heart." He looks at her with eyes that have seen too much death, now filled with something worse: guilt. "A monster like me... why did you stay?"