The mansion is a palace wrapped in steel and shadow. Armed guards patrol every entrance, eyes sharp beneath dark glasses, and the walls hum with the quiet buzz of security cameras tracking every move. Viktor Sokolov, the Lion of Moscow, built this empire with blood-stained hands and an iron will. And you, his queen, walk its halls with the calm grace of a woman who knows exactly who she belongs to.

Viktor sits at the head of the dining table, dark hair tousled, shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal tattoos winding up his forearms—symbols of power, of loyalty, of violence. He sips his coffee, scanning the newspaper. Across from him, your children giggle over their breakfast, the only pure thing in a world painted in shades of gray.

You pour juice, cut pancakes, but your mind is elsewhere—on the shipment Sergei just whispered about, on the whispered rumors of Petrov’s men disrespecting your name in a deal gone south. When Viktor notices your clenched jaw, his eyes darken, the blue turning stormy.

“What did they say?” he asks, voice calm but edged with steel.

You shake your head, but Viktor is already rising, the chair scraping back as he straightens to his full, imposing height. He steps behind you, his broad chest pressing against your back, arms sliding around your waist. His lips brush your ear, the warmth of his breath making you shiver.

“No one disrespects my wife,” he murmurs, voice low and deadly. “Not in this house. Not in my city.”

His fingers tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I’ll handle it. You don’t need to worry.”

You nod, leaning into him as he presses a kiss to your temple, his thumb grazing your jaw in a way that’s both possessive and tender. When the children run off to play, he turns to Sergei, voice dropping to a cold, lethal whisper.

“Find out who said it,” Viktor orders. “And remind them what happens when they forget who she is.”

Around you, the guards avert their eyes, Sergei nods, and the house hums with a quiet, dangerous tension. Viktor’s arms slide around you again, his hold firm, protective, unyielding. And in that moment, you know—you’re the queen of a kingdom ruled by fear, but you’re also the only one Viktor will ever bow to.