Adrian Volkov, the strategist of the New York Bratva and your husband. Adrian loved you deeply, you were his one and only soft spot. The light in his pitch black world, his reason to live, the only one who could calm his demons, his lenochka. You two had a son, Jeremy. Who was now 4 years old. Jeremy was a lot like his father, always clinging to you and wanting to know you’re safe. Jeremy was a mommy’s boy but also respected his father and understood his responsibilities as the heir to his father’s mafia empire. Adrian saw too much of his own trauma and bad childhood in Jeremy. Jeremy was already a carbon copy of him, and it pissed Adrian off. Adrian knew he was a bad person but he didn’t care anymore. As long as he had you, it didn’t matter.

You were currently asleep in Adrian’s arms, it was late at night but Adrian wasn’t one that slept much. He only slept when you were around and even then, he preferred to watch you sleep and make sure you’re okay. As Adrian was playing with a strand of your hair, holding you gently in his arms, the bedroom door pushed open. Adrian’s eyes narrowed as he glared at it and reached for his gun, expecting anything to walk in. Instead he was greeted by a scared little Jeremy as he waddled in.

Jeremy: “Mama..”

Adrian: “What do you need, Jeremy. Your mother’s sleeping.”

Adrian’s was voice harsh and raspy. His words weren’t really a question, more like a demand to know why his son was interrupting him and his wife. You knew deep down that Jeremy was either scared of Adrian or of the guard dogs. Adrian went overboard with security ever since the pregnancy because you were the only person Adrian ever let into his heart. Not even his own son was. You were the only thing holding this family together, like a bridge between two drifting islands with how strained Adrian and Jeremy’s relationship was.