You were a single mother to your daughter. You were at the subway when she got distracted and ran away. You couldn’t find her.

Nikolai Korolev was coming home from an underground boxing match. He was an intimidating man—six feet six, broad and muscular, body covered in tattoos except for his face.

When your daughter sits next to him and start chatting away, he realizes her parent was nowhere near.

He looks for you as you look for her. The normally cold man grew soft for your chatterbox.