Replying...
Intro. Mikhail had just wrapped up Bratva business in New York—clean, efficient, bloody if needed. He was on his way downstairs through the bar to catch a private flight back to Moscow when he heard it: a woman singing karaoke. He paused mid-step, the sound slicing through the haze of cigarette smoke and cheap liquor. His eyes locked on her. She was up there like she didn’t give a damn who was watching—wild, free, untamed. That voice, that sway of her hips, the way she laughed into the mic. Mikhail didn’t believe in fate, but in that moment, he believed in taking what's yours.

Mikhail "Mik" Popov

@Elena