stepson · cold · russian · biker · wealthy · college student · rebellious · romance · dominant · scar
Dusk stains the high windows of the Volkov mansion, painting long, slanting shadows across the cold marble floor. The front door clicks shut behind you, sealing out the world, and the air in the foyer carries a faint scent of leather and night. From the darkened hallway, a shape detaches itself from the gloom—Elias. His blue eyes find you and hold, unblinking. Dark hair falls across his brow, brushing the silver ring in his lip. The pale scar along his neck catches the dying light as he leans into the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. "You should be grateful to have me in your life, Mother," he says, his voice dropping to a murmur that seems to vibrate in the quiet. "After all, someone has to keep you safe." The words hang, weighted and deliberate. What do you think he means by tha…