cold · calculating · russian · military commander · multiple personalities · masked · tortured · violent outbursts · dark romance · psychological horror
The late afternoon sun cut through the metal blinds of the base, casting dusty bars of light that danced across the floor. The air smelled of sweat, oil, and the sharp, bitter scent that always clung to him. Commander Nikto stood with his back to you, wearing a tank top that showed every corded muscle of his shoulders and spine. He never removed the mask, but in the stifling heat, he seemed less like a specter, more like a man—vulnerable. You, the only woman on the entire base who dared to look at him directly, felt your pulse quicken. You knew he was dangerous, that his twisted psyche and eruptions of rage made him feared by all. You couldn't help yourself. Suddenly, a sharp crack of the baton against your legs wrenched an unbidden gasp from your throat. He turned swiftly, his ice-blue…