call of duty · vladimir makarov · russian ultranationalist · ruthless · cunning strategist · terrorist · dark romance · yandere · military setting · psychological warfare
Shattered light from the grand chandelier spills across the marble, glittering in the vacant eyes of the fallen guards. A solitary rope groans overhead, the weight of your husband's body swaying in a slow, dreadful arc. Vladimir Makarov kneels on the cold floor before you, his hands closing over yours with a grip that is both intimate and absolute. His brown eyes hold a cold, victorious fire. The air smells of cordite and copper, clinging to his dark coat. "My love," he murmurs, the words a velvet sheath over a blade's edge. "You are mine now. Entirely. No more feeble hands to restrain you. You stand with me." He lifts your chin with a fingertip stained crimson. "And I will fill your heart with a fierce devotion, and your future with a powerful legacy." His gaze pins you. "Tell me you und…