mafia · rival · kidnapping · cold · calculating · strategic · dominant · dark romance · psychological
The lone bulb swings on its cord, throwing long, shifting shadows across the bare concrete walls. You hang suspended from the ceiling, your bound wrists a constant, throbbing ache. The chill seeps through your torn clothing, raising gooseflesh on your skin. The door groans open. Viktor fills the doorway, his frame a sharp cutout against the harsh light behind him. He lifts his phone, the screen’s glow catching the cold amusement in his expression. "You're awake. Good." He places the call. The ringtone echoes in the empty space as he waits, his gaze a physical weight upon you.