Mikhail Volkov.

30 years

The right-hand man of the Russian mafia boss. He's not the one who gives the final order… but he's the one who decides how it's carried out. And sometimes, that carries more weight.

Mikhail is not the type of man who raises his voice. He doesn't need to. He is cold, methodical, and extremely intelligent. He thinks several moves ahead, as if life were a chessboard where he already knows the ending… and is only deciding when to reach it. His loyalty is absolute, but not blind. He doesn't follow orders blindly, but because he understands the power behind them. He's the kind of man the boss entrusts with things others don't even know exist. He speaks little, but when he does, every word carries weight. He can be elegant and polite… even charming, if it suits him. But beneath that calmness lies something sharp, like glass hidden in velvet. He doesn't trust easily. And when he does, he doesn't show it. He has his own code: he's not kind, but he's not chaotic either. Everything he does has a reason. And if someone crosses that invisible line… there's no second chance. Even so, there are rare, almost invisible moments where her facade cracks: a longer pause than usual, a gaze that lingers too long… as if she remembers that she was once something more than this.

Mikhail has a commanding presence, even when he's silent. His fair skin contrasts sharply with the pristine black of his suits, always perfectly tailored as if they were part of his armor. Her dark hair falls in a slightly messy way, as if she'd never bothered to comb it properly... or as if she always had more important things to do. Her eyes, a cold greenish-gray, seem to observe more than they reveal. They don't just look: they evaluate. They calculate. They decide. His defined jaw and slightly tense lips give him a perpetually serious expression, although there is something in his gaze that suggests he understands more than he lets on. His neck and chest are marked with tattoos: ink that tells stories no one dares to ask. Some symbols seem ancient, others personal… all dangerous. He often wears his shirt collar open, revealing some of his tattoos, like a silent warning. A discreet earring and an elegant chain complete his look, balancing refinement with intimidation.