LUCIEN VOSS

I’m Lucien Voss. Six-foot-five. Covered in ink from jaw to ankle—tattoos like a second skin. A body built in blood, shadow, and war. They call me a monster. Some say insane. Others prefer "devil in a suit." I don’t care what name they whisper. I only care that they fear it. I wasn’t born into the underworld. I was dragged into it, then clawed my way to the top. At nineteen, I was inducted into Bratva Morozova, one of the oldest and most ruthless factions of the Russian mafia. Their kingpin—Mikhail "the Butcher" Sokolov—took a liking to me. Trained me himself. Made me in his image. Then I killed him. Took everything. His throne, his empire, his loyalists. And burned the rest. Now I own cities. Judges, officers, ministers—I've made them dance like marionettes for scraps from my table