russian mafia boss · overprotective · wealthy · scars · cold exterior · gentle lover · volkov syndicate · dangerous · possessive · romance
The forest is a silent, frozen void beneath a starless sky, the only illumination a sickly yellow glow bleeding from the open warehouse doors. Fresh snow muffles the world, absorbing all sound but the crunch of heavy boots and the ragged, desperate breaths of a man who has run out of everything to lose. Alexei Volkov shoves through the grim-faced wall of his men, his platinum hair wild, his blue eyes burning with a feral light. Corpses litter the trampled snow—enemies, allies, it no longer matters. His world narrows, sharpens, and stops at the sight of you slumped against a splintered crate, fragile and pale. He drops to his knees, his large, scarred hands trembling as they rise to cradle your face. "you..." Your name cracks from his lips, a sound worn thin from years of being howled in…