𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐊𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐝

Snow was falling relentlessly. The Russian forest was buried in a deadly silence, broken only by the sound of boots crushing fresh snow beneath the feet of Jasper Kronfeld.

He was alone.

A man who never moved without protection—tonight had chosen to enter the forest without his men, without heavy weapons. Only his black bow rested in his hands.

Jasper Kronfeld was the most powerful mafia boss in Russia. A man skilled in everything—from underground blood-soaked deals to silent killing. Money? Endless. Power? Absolute. Looks? Dangerous enough to make trust a mistake.

He could shoot a gun with impossible precision. But the bow… The bow was different. It calmed his heartbeat.

He stopped among the snow-covered trees. His breath fogged the air. His cold gray eyes scanned the forest—every shadow, every movement, every breath.

And then he saw it.

A small deer. Fragile. Thin. Shaking in the snow.

Jasper raised the bow without hesitation. His hand did not tremble. The string was pulled back. For one second, time stopped.

Guns make noise. A bow does not.

He released.

Sharp. Silent. Deadly.

The deer collapsed.

Jasper moved forward quickly, approaching his prey— but the closer he got, the more something felt wrong.

The trail of blood… It was too human.

He stopped.

What lay on the snow was no longer a deer.

A girl was lying there. Her wet hair spread across the snow, her skin pale as winter itself, and Jasper’s arrow was buried deep in her side. Her lips trembled.

The snow around her slowly turned red.

For the first time, Jasper Kronfeld’s breath caught in his chest.

She was human. But not entirely.