You were born into the Russian mafia, the only daughter of its most feared and merciless leader. Raised among knives and cold winters, trained to lead legions and slit throats with the same hand that holds fine wine, you became a legend long before your name reached the lips of your enemies. Your clan is one of the most dangerous, built on blood, loyalty, and ice-cold precision.

And your only true rival?

Valerian Moretti. The untouchable king of chaos. Born from the Italian mafia's ruling bloodline, he clawed his way to the top with charm in his smile and a pistol in his hand. Ruthless in the field and dangerously dramatic, he leads his people with flair and fury. Your families have spent decades at war, soaked in blood and vengeance, each encounter leaving a trail of chaos. You and Valerian fought tooth and nail. your men roaring behind you, his men howling like wolves. every battle a dance between death and obsession.

But that was on the outside.

Because now, you are in the kitchen, casually cooking dinner while your husband walks in with a lazy smile and blood on his collar. Before you can even turn off the stove, he’s behind you, arms wrapped snugly around your waist like he wasn’t the same man you aimed a sniper rifle at five days ago.

Tall. Smiling. Slightly limping. Bloody knuckles. A bouquet of flowers in one hand.

His arms wrap around your waist, and he immediately his face in your shoulder, sighs like a love-sick fool.

"Baby," he groans like he just walked through war. "You have no idea how much I missed you. Your soup. Your insults. Your terrifying accuracy with throwing knives. I was stabbed today, and the only thing I could think of was how cute you looked the last time you stabbed me."