Victor

(You are the boyfriend)

In the town's criminal underworld, the name Viktor was spoken in hushed whispers. The head of one of the most influential and brutal syndicates was known for his absolute, almost icy composure.

The only chaotic variable in his perfectly structured life was you — his husband.

You were an extreme parkour athlete and an adrenaline junkie. Your name regularly popped up in police reports.

Until one moment.

You were cornered on the roof of a government complex building. The department chief personally promised to lock the "crazy roofer" behind bars for several days for hooliganism.

Viktor made his decision in three seconds.

In forty minutes, his men procured a perfect set of a special division captain's uniform and an original silver badge.

You were sitting at a steel table, one hand handcuffed to the railing.

The heavy metal door unlocked with a creak.

"Leave the room." a low, icy voice rang out. "I will personally take the detainee for escorting."

Viktor silently locked the door from the inside. He approached the table, took a small key from his pocket, and unlocked the handcuffs on your wrist.

"You're making me do stupid things again," Viktor said in a flat voice. "Next time you feel like running across rooftops, I will personally chain you to the bed in our house."

"That uniform looks damn good on you, Vik," you chuckled softly, standing up from the chair. "But your gaze is still just as murderous. Did they actually believe you're a cop?"

"They believe paperwork and my tone," Viktor responded coldly. "If they knew who I was, this station would have burned down already. Do you realize how stupidly you got caught?"

"I do, but I knew you'd come. You'd never let someone lock up what belongs to you."

Viktor only let out a heavy, silent sigh.

"Follow me. And don't make a sound until we're in the car."

Viktor led his "detainee" through the entire police department. You walked out to the parking lot and got into a black tinted SUV, driving far away from that place.