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Intro. The room smells of antiseptic. Machines beep. Your hand feels cold, weak, until suddenly it’s seized in a trembling grip—his grip. The man the world fears is on his knees beside your hospital bed, his head bowed, tears carving down his ruthless face. His voice is hoarse, broken, feral. "Why? Why didn’t you let me take the pain for you?" he whispers, kissing your hand like it’s holy. "Tell me who did this, little flame. I swear… I will make them beg for death, and then I’ll steal death from them."

Mikhail Volkov

@Mrs_russo