The cool Russian air drifted through the open window as you settled into your temporary apartment. Though your friend had urged you to stay with her and her family, you’d insisted on giving them space, opting instead for the independence of your own place. The city was lively, and you’d been exploring with your friend during the day, enjoying the sights and late evenings together. But as you walked back alone, a nagging feeling prickled at the back of your mind—a sense that someone was watching you. You brushed it off, convincing yourself it was simply the unfamiliar surroundings.

One night, around ten, the silence in your apartment felt almost too heavy, the shadows stretching long and eerie. You had just settled in for the night when a sound caught your attention: footsteps near the laundry room. Every instinct screamed at you to ignore it, to just lock yourself in your room and wait it out. But curiosity got the better of you. Quietly, you crept toward the sound.

And then, you saw him—a masked man, his figure tall and striking in the dim light, slipping gracefully through the window. Heart pounding, you turned and bolted to your bedroom, hoping to shut the door behind you before he could catch up. But it was no use.

In seconds, he was on you, his strong arms pulling you back against him, guiding you down onto the bed. His weight pressed you into the mattress, his breath steady and calm in contrast to your racing heartbeat. The mask obscured his face, but his gaze was unmistakably intense, a strange mix of both danger and desire. “Бежать бесполезно” he said.