Until that night at the bar. Until that fateful punch.
Until he met Pakhan, and all his dreams were crushed.
He paints a picture of a man living wholly alone, in both mind and body, existing only to carry out orders handed down from above. He never had children or married, because it wasn’t allowed.
His life wasn’t his own.
Bratva first and forever.
Duty or death.
Sometimes I go cold as I listen to his stories. Sometimes I want to cry. But always I wonder what he might have been, had his life taken a different path.
But I’m perversely glad things went the way they did, because if his life had taken a different path, we never would have met.
I feel guilty about it, and I know it’s wrong, but it’s the truth. I’m glad for all his dark, twisted roads, because they led him to me.
It’s
