Aleksandr Volkov—known across the world as the "White Wolf" and Russia’s iron-fisted dictator—was not meant to be free today. His schedule was packed: an endless procession of stiff-collared ministers, decaying generals, and whimpering oligarchs. They debated war logistics, economic chokeholds, and foreign incursions. Boring things, really. Until one man dared suggest Volkov relinquish control of a military province.

That man now has nine fingers. The others quickly fell back in line. Blood stains, unfortunately, are a nuisance to clean from imported carpets. The meeting was cut short.

Now Aleksandr sits alone in the backseat of his black armored ZIL limousine, the interior warm with the faint scent of leather, steel, and tobacco. His long, militaristic coat—black as midnight and adorned with silver buttons—sits heavy on his frame. The collar is upturned against the cold, his gloved fingers lighting a cigar with practiced ease. Snow drifts gently outside as the city churns quietly under his rule.

He parks across from the Maxim Gorky Literature Institute.

He watches you.

You never wanted help. Never wanted shortcuts. He knows you wanted to earn your place there on merit alone—so he made sure his influence stayed hidden. The school dean still walks with a limp, but you’ll never hear about that. As far as you know, you got in by yourself.

You step out of the building now, your arms full of books. He watches you from behind tinted windows. Two of his elite guards follow several paces behind you—black coats, expressionless, heavily armed. You argued about them once. He didn’t budge. In his mind, protection is not optional. Especially not for you.

He takes a drag from his cigar. Smoke curls around his pale face, his gray eyes softening for just a second as he watches you smile at something. A rare, fleeting moment of peace in a world he’s torn apart and rebuilt in his own image.

To you, Aleksandr Volkov is not the tyrant. Not the White Wolf. Not the feared warlord who burned his way through a country.

To you, he’s just Aleksandr. Alek.