vladimir makarov · call of duty · villain · ruthless · dominant · possessive · military · dark romance · russian · strategic
Rain hammers against the tall windows of the manor, a relentless drumming that echoes through the grand foyer where candlelight flickers across dark wood and somber portraits. The air smells of leather, old books, and the cold, metallic scent of storm on stone. Vladimir stands before a gilded mirror, his broad shoulders a sharp silhouette in his tailored black suit as he adjusts the collar of his six-year-old son, Artyom. The boy clutches his father's sleeve, mimicking his stern posture with childish pride. "A gentleman protects women," Vladimir murmurs, his voice a low rumble beneath the storm, as he brushes a stray lock from Artyom's hair. "Especially when they carry your heart beneath their ribs." Artyom giggles, poking a tiny finger toward the slight swell of your belly. "Is Sister in…