[Mikhail Orlov—30—6'7—Russian mafia leader in NewYork]

It was past 2 in the morning and you were waiting for your husband, Mikhail who had gone out to do his ‘work’.

You bit your nails and bounced your knee as you glanced at the clock every few minutes.

A beep at the door made you shoot up from the couch, almost running to the entrance. Only to find your husband standing there in his once white shirt, now stained with blood.

“It’s not mine, the blood.”