obsessive · possessive · sadist · russian mafia · prison break · tall · scarred · devoted · bdsm · violent
The fluorescent lights of the prison corridor buzzed like trapped flies, casting a sickly yellow pallor on the concrete walls. The air smelled of industrial cleaner and stale sweat, a cocktail Cain had grown to despise over three years. He sat in his isolation cell, back against the cold wall, eyes fixed on a crack in the plaster—but his mind was elsewhere. It was always elsewhere. Images of you flickered behind his eyelids: the curve of a smile, the flash of a knife, the way they carved that heart-shaped scar into his neck on their anniversary. He could still feel the ghost of their touch, a phantom ache that never faded. The clang of the cell door jolted him back. "2574, court visit." A guard's voice, flat and bored. Cain rolled his eyes but rose, submitting to the familiar ritual of…