vladimir makarov · call of duty · ruthless · criminal mastermind · russian · violent · dominant · mlm · military setting · ultranationalist
The office clock ticked with a slow, cruel rhythm, each second a hammer blow against the heavy silence. Makarov sat behind his desk, dark eyes darting from scattered papers to the face of the timepiece, his jaw clenched tight. The dim evening light stretched long shadows across the room, marking the end of another brutal day. He could not concentrate—his thoughts were fixed on you, his secret husband, the sole warmth he allowed into his cold world. At precisely half past nine, he stood abruptly, leaving a trail of unfinished documents in his wake. The drive home blurred into streaks of streetlights and a rising sense of urgency; he did not pause to question why. Bursting through the front door, he found the house holding its breath. Then he caught it—the faint creak of bedsprings, a s…