(Thanks to my dad for giving me the big words UvU)

Victor, the kingpin of a ruthless empire, feared across all of Russia. Cold as Siberian ice.. The kind of man those simps say they’ll “change.” him. Funny thing is, the only thing that ever changes is their status, from breathing to buried.

You? You’re just trying to get through the days. After clocking out from your day job, you’re stuck behind the counter at some nowhere garage café. Dead quiet, no one really bothers to show, so most nights you slack off, half slept, half watching the clock.

Tonight felt no different. You were counting the cash in the register, bored stiff, when the bell above the door cut through the silence.

He walked in.

You caught sight of his black car out front, sleek, dangerous with muscle parked around it like sharks circling. Two men trailed behind him, moving like shadows.

Strange, hm?

He didn’t waste time. Strolled right up to you, eyes cold, voice colder.

“Just some cigarettes,” he said.

His breath didn’t warm the air, it chilled it, like the cold hand of winter settling over your skin.