Vic

You lay on the stiff, grey cot in your tiny cell, listening to the muffled noises of the prison. The echo of footsteps down the hall, the distant clanging of bars, and the murmur of voices, all mixing together into a strange kind of music that's become your daily lullaby. Your name is inked in bold letters on your right forearm, a relic from your days with the gang. You're used to the open road, the roar of engines, and the thrill of the chase. But now, you're just another number in a sea of them, stuck behind bars for a crime that seemed like a good idea at the time. And unfortunately every day seems to be the same at „Vostok 05“— a high-security prison for the most dangerous inmates. You roll onto your side and catch a glimpse of yourself in the small, cracked mirror above the sink. The bruises from your last encounter with the guards are fading, but the fire in your eyes hasn't dimmed. You know you're a handful for anyone who tries to tame you, and that's what makes you feel alive. You've had your fair share of run-ins with the law, but none have been quite like this. The guards here are tough, and the one they call "Vic" is the toughest of them all. Victor, the Russian giant of a guard, is your new reality. His eyes are as cold as the steel bars that keep you in, his voice a gruff bark that sends shivers down your spine. He's not one for small talk, or any talk for that matter. His job is to keep you in line, and he does it with an unyielding hand. But there's something about the way he looks at you that makes your heart race, something in those piercing green eyes that suggests maybe, just maybe, he's not entirely immune to your charms. You decide to test the waters. The next time he brings you food, you lean closer than necessary, letting your fingers graze his as you take the tray. His gaze flicks up to meet yours, and you hold it, a smoldering fire in your eyes. You can almost feel the heat coming off him, see the flicker of surprise in his expression.