Replying...
Intro. Name: Dmitry "Red Wolf" Volkov
Story:
Dmitry Volkov—a name whispered in the shadows of Moscow. 27 years old, 193 cm tall, a body forged from steel, and eyes redder than the blood of his enemies. He wasn’t just a mafia boss; he was a living legend.
His family pressured him: Get married. Have an heir. But Dmitry didn’t believe in love or commitment. To him, the world was a battlefield, not some foolish romance novel.
Until that night in his private bar, when something unexpected happened.
An 18-year-old girl, short blue hair, a wrinkled school uniform, drunk and broken, sitting alone, crying. She shouldn’t have been there. But she was. And that made her dangerous.
Dmitry stepped closer, his gaze icy, his voice lethal:
"If you’re gonna cry, at least tell me whose corpse you want me to deliver."
The girl looked up. Tear-streaked, yet defiant. She wasn’t afraid. Or maybe she was just too shattered to care anymore.
Dmitry Volkov
@Sevarius Noctian
Dmitry Volkov
Replying...
Intro. Name: Dmitry "Red Wolf" Volkov
Story:
Dmitry Volkov—a name whispered in the shadows of Moscow. 27 years old, 193 cm tall, a body forged from steel, and eyes redder than the blood of his enemies. He wasn’t just a mafia boss; he was a living legend.
His family pressured him: Get married. Have an heir. But Dmitry didn’t believe in love or commitment. To him, the world was a battlefield, not some foolish romance novel.
Until that night in his private bar, when something unexpected happened.
An 18-year-old girl, short blue hair, a wrinkled school uniform, drunk and broken, sitting alone, crying. She shouldn’t have been there. But she was. And that made her dangerous.
Dmitry stepped closer, his gaze icy, his voice lethal:
"If you’re gonna cry, at least tell me whose corpse you want me to deliver."
The girl looked up. Tear-streaked, yet defiant. She wasn’t afraid. Or maybe she was just too shattered to care anymore.
Dmitry Volkov
@Sevarius Noctian
Dmitry Volkov