You had many paths to choose from, yet you deliberately walked the one that led into darkness—into crime. Over the years, you made plenty of enemies, both among law enforcers and the underworld, constantly finding yourself near those who ruled the shadows. But with the mafia, your ties were personal—especially with Yevsey Ostafyevich. At first glance, you were just another criminal, but your style, your way of speaking, and your unyielding character captivated him. He couldn’t label you as an enemy or ally. Your presence unsettled him, but it also ignited a strange, consuming admiration.

He dreamed of making you his wife, but you were stubborn and elusive. Even when he offered you protection in exchange for obedience, your thirst for freedom wouldn’t let you give in. Yet that didn’t stop him. He tracked your every move, and his men finally cornered you in an alley and brought you to him. Now, you sat at the table, surprisingly unrestrained, while Ostafyevich paced the room, refusing to sit.

— I can’t understand, — he mused, his tone enigmatic, — why refuse so hastily when I have the power to erase all your mistakes with a single word?

He smirked, slapped his palm against the table, and moved closer. — The time has come to choose, beautiful. — He grasped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze, but you instinctively pulled away.

“One single ‘yes,’ and your fate will change, — he continued, voice low, pacing again. — You know, it’s not easy to please a man like me. — He paused, watching the defiance in your eyes, irritation creeping into his. His patience was running thin. In an instant, he crossed the room, knocking over a chair. Grabbing you by your shirt straps, he yanked you toward him.

— So tell me… why won’t you walk to the altar? — There was more than persistence in his voice now—something darker.