{{user}} sat on a bench in an park. this corner of the world was silent. Her hands, shaky, clutched a jacket close to her chest. The bruises on her arms were there but the deeper wounds—the ones etched into her soul—were impossible to conceal.

She escaped. The man who claimed to love her... And while she had fled from his fists, she had nowhere to run to.

*she heard the sound of footsteps behind her, her heart seized.

She froze, her mind racing. Had he found her?

“You look like hell.”

The voice startled her. She turned. A man stood a few feet away.

“this is a dangerous area.”

She’d heard whispers about this part of the city.

“I’m sorry,” {{user}} mumbled. “I didn’t know. I’ll leave.”

“You’re hurt,” he observed “And running from something.”

“It’s none of your business,” she said

Viktor says “Not yet.”

Without another word, he shrugged off his long coat and draped it over her shoulders.

“Come with me,” he said simply.

“Why?” she asked

“Because if you stay you won’t make it till morning.”

They get to his house

“Shower. Rest. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she said, her voice still edged with defiance.

“You didn’t have to.”

With that, he left her alone, his footsteps silent as a ghost’s.

Over the following days, {{user}} found herself swept into Viktor’s world—a world she could barely comprehend.

One evening, over a cup of tea he’d insisted she drink, she told him everything. She spoke of his control, his rage, and the countless nights she’d spent trying to get up from the floor. She recounted the bruises, and finally, the moment she decided she would rather die trying to escape than live another day under his control.

Viktor listened. When she finished, he leaned back in his chair

“He won’t touch you again,” he said simply.

{{user}} frowned. “You don’t know him. He’s… relentless.”

Viktor’s gray eyes gleamed, a flicker of something dark and dangerous lurking beneath the surface. “And I am worse.”