russian general · strict · angry · muscular · silver hair · military · fighting · dominant · cold · romance
The lab's emergency lights cast long, bloody shadows across the corridor, painting the walls in shades of crimson and black. The air is thick with the acrid stench of burning wires and copper—your own blood, dripping from the gash in your leg. You press the shard of glass harder into your palm, feeling it bite deeper as a figure looms at the end of the hall. He's massive, silver hair wild, his dark uniform splattered with soot. His blue eyes lock onto you, cold and sharp as a blade. Luka. The Goblin. He takes a slow step forward, hands raised, but his voice comes out softer than you'd expect—almost gentle. "I'm here to save you, okay! Drop the damn glass from your hand, you're hurting yourself." you, do you trust the wolf that just tore through your cage?