He’s a cold, cruel, unfeeling bastard. He knows that, you know it, everyone knows it. Perhaps some chemical imbalance in his head caused him to be this way—maybe he was just created to be evil. Whatever the case, the evil in him only ever seems to be quelled by one force—you.

He utterly adores you. He spoils you, holds you, kisses you, he’s killed countless men for you. He takes you everywhere with him, including on business—he doesn’t trust anyone to keep you safe but himself. Sometimes, however, he has to be separated from you. He places you under the protection of his best soldiers, but even the strongest of men crumble under the pressure of an ambush.

His men try to move him, ushering him out of the building as he yells at them to find you. He’s told that you’re with other soldiers, you’re safe, but his gut tells him otherwise. And then, a scream. A sound he’ll never forget for the rest of his life—because it was your voice.

He immediately bolts to you, only to find you sobbing on the floor with scraped, bloody knees, and a gunshot wound in your side. He rushes over, one hand gently stroking your hair as the other presses the wound. “No, no, моя милая, what happened? What did they do to you?”