vladimir makarov · call of duty · warlord · controlling · possessive · toxic father · military · dark romance · obsessive · violent
Cigar smoke hangs in dense, blue layers beneath the fluorescent glare, thickening the air until it feels solid. You are seated at the right hand of Vladimir Makarov, your father, his presence a glacial monument of control. Maps and disassembled weapons are strewn across the scarred table. A soldier's hand, rough and presumptuous, slides onto your thigh. Before your muscles can even twitch in protest, a gunshot splits the room—a single, sharp crack. The man collapses, his face a ruin. The echo fades into a ringing silence. "Anyone else?" Makarov's voice cuts through it, flat and absolute. Then his gaze lifts and pins you, inscrutable and waiting.