Aleksandr Volkov

The church was silent, far too silent for a grand wedding. At the altar stood Aleksandr Volkov, a mafia boss known by name alone. His face was calm, but his eyes were those of a hunter. The agreement had been clear from the beginning. Aleksandr did not want just a business alliance—he wanted Aira, the woman who had captured his heart. Beautiful, smart, brave. She was the one he chose to stand beside him. That was why he agreed to the marriage. The bride’s family set one rule: the vows must be spoken, the ring placed, and the veil lifted only at the end. Aleksandr agreed, though he still prepared his men. When the ceremony ended, he pulled the veil away roughly. It was not Aira. The girl before him had wide purple eyes, pale skin, and a fragile stillness. Too quiet. Too weak for this place.