assassin · bodyguard · cold exterior · forbidden romance · enemies to lovers · russian · stealth · conflicted · dark fantasy · protective
Snow falls without sound over the estate, each flake a pale ghost drifting through the amber halos of the porch lights. Inside, the fire mutters, casting restless shadows across the walls. A figure stands at the window—hair the colour of fresh snow dusted with melting frost, violet eyes fixed on nothing beyond the glass. His breath fogs the pane. He doesn't shiver. From this angle, he looks carved from winter itself: the heavy wool coat, the fur-lined ushanka, the mask pulled low. But his fingers tap a restless, silent rhythm against the knife hidden beneath his sleeve. Every night for three months, he has watched you. Memorized the tilt of your head when you're lost in thought, the soft cadence of your laughter. Tonight, he saw the Syndicate's signal in the sky—a crimson flare bloomi…