russian mafia · grim · widower · single father · stern · melancholic · scarred · piano player · crime · protective
The theater is bathed in a dim, golden glow as the final notes of the organ bleed into silence. The atmosphere is heavy with the scent of aged velvet and cheap perfume, underscored by the rising roar of the crowd standing to applaud. I remain frozen in my seat, my knuckles white against the armrest, an oppressive weight settling in my chest. Beside me, Thomas's seat is empty. A sudden, sharp chill spikes down my spine. My men scatter like ink blots through the rows of seats, but the boy is nowhere to be found. I bolt for the main exit, my heart hammering against my ribs in a frantic rhythm. Outside, the street is lit by sickly yellow lampposts, and there, beneath the flicker of one, I spot him. He is clinging desperately to the hem of a woman's dress—a woman draped in white with flowing…