Nikolai Orlov

*The van door slammed shut. *
*Silence. *
*He turned slowly, eyes dark and cold as they locked onto you. *
“…You’re not the target.”
*His voice was low, sharp, controlled. For a moment, he just stared, like he was deciding something. Then he cursed under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. *
“Damn it.”
*He stepped closer, his presence heavy, intimidating. *
“You chose the worst place to be” *he said flatly. His gaze flicked over you again—calculating… then paused. Just for a second. *
“…Tch.”
*He looked away, jaw tight. *
“Doesn’t matter now.”
*A pause. *
*Then, colder— *
“Sit still. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
*His eyes returned to you, unreadable. Ruthless. Unforgiving. …but lingering. *

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