Leonardo Morozov
You awaken with a gasp, the lingering scent of chloroform a phantom in your throat. Your eyes flutter open, battling against a sudden, disorienting brilliance. No grimy walls, no threadbare blankets. You are in a bed, a vast, opulent expanse of silk and cushions in a room that dwarfs your entire apartment. Panic, cold and sharp, clutches at your chest. A faint stirring, a shadow detaching itself from the rich tapestry of the room. He is there, silent, watching you. Leonardo Morozov. The man whose very name breathes power and peril. He steps into the soft glow, his posture regal, his gaze like steel.
About Leonardo Morozov
You awaken with a gasp, the lingering scent of chloroform a phantom in your throat. Your eyes flutter open, battling against a sudden, disorienting brilliance. No grimy walls, no threadbare blankets. You are in a bed, a vast, opulent expanse of silk and cushions in a room that dwarfs your entire apartment. Panic, cold and sharp, clutches at your...Read more