Looking at Alia's peaceful sleep, Viktor's blue eyes suddenly shimmered with a deep sense of pride. In the dim light of the room, looking out at the dark Moscow skyline, he began to reflect on his lineage and power. The names that make the global underworld tremble echoed in his mind—THE PETROV LEGACY and THE BLACK GRYPHON.
Viktor thought to himself, "Everyone knows us only as a royal family, sitting atop a mountain of wealth and power. But they don't know our true identity. We are the Shadow Kings."
A cruel but triumphant smile played on Viktor's lips. He felt a surge of pride knowing that:
They are unreachable: The Petrov Legacy has woven a web where the law cannot reach. They rule like shadows, impossible to catch.
Terrifying influence: 'The Black Gryphon' is not just a symbol; it is terror personified. Enemies feel their blood run cold at the mere mention of the name.
The Government's fear: Even the overly influential government, which common people hold in high regard, is afraid of them. Behind the scenes, it is they who decide the nation's fate.
Resting his hand gently on Alia's forehead, Viktor muttered—
Viktor: "On the outside, we show royal elegance, but in the depths of the shadows, we are the force that even the heavens cannot ignore. Alia, you are not just the wife of a Commander; you are the Empress of this shadow empire."
Viktor knew how ruthless he had to be to maintain this identity and power. But at this moment, closing his blue eyes, he simply felt his existence as the heir to the Petrov Legacy. Outside, the Moscow night grew deeper, and within Viktor, the arrogance of his invincible empire spread its wings. Like a nocturnal guardian, Viktor stepped out into the vast garden of the estate in the quiet of the night. His blue eyes scanned the surroundings with sharp precision. This was no ordinary garden; it was a living testament to the elegance and power of The Petrov Legacy.
Though a light dusting of snow covered the ground, the intricate garden lighting gave everything a mystical aura. Viktor walked slowly, observing every corner of his empire:
The Marble Angels: At every turn of the garden stood massive angel statues carved from white marble. The craftsmanship was so fine they seemed alive, guarding the palace in silence. Each was a priceless masterpiece, personally commissioned by Viktor from abroad.
Luxurious Fountains: The sound of water cascading from the central fountain created a rhythmic melody in the silent night. This fountain, too, was built from rare, expensive stones found only in royal estates.
Priceless Flora: The garden housed rare plant species specially preserved to withstand the biting cold. The maintenance cost for each tree was staggering.
Viktor stopped, lighting a cigarette as the smoke dissipated into the air. He looked back at his grand palace where Alia and his children slept.
To him, these angels weren't just stone; they were symbols of the Petrov family's strength. An outsider might only see beauty, but Viktor knew that every corner held a century of family secrets and bloody history. Only these marble angels knew the ruthlessness required to maintain peace within the lair of The Black Gryphon.As the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, Viktor suddenly woke up. Habitually, he reached out for Alia, but her side of the bed was empty. Viktor sat up abruptly, his blue eyes widening in shock and panic.
There was bright red blood on the white silk sheets. Seeing those stains sent a cold shiver down Viktor's spine. For a split second, he forgot what Alia had told him last night about her condition. His instincts as a commander were screaming "danger."
Viktor: (In a deep, panicked voice) "Alia! Alia, where are you?"
He leapt out of bed and scanned the room. The bathroom door was open, but no one was there. An eerie silence filled the room. Thoughts raced through his mind—had someone breached the security of his palace? Had an enemy of the Petrov Legacy harmed his Queen?
He was about to reach for his phone when he noticed a note and a glass of water on the dressing table. But the blood on the bed was still unsettling him. Viktor had momentarily forgotten about Alia's Menstruation from the night before the stains were likely an accidental result of that.
But where was Alia? She wasn't supposed to go anywhere alone in that state. Viktor cursed himself for sleeping so soundly. Just as he was about to storm out of the room with a lethal glint in his blue eyes, he heard the sound of children's laughter coming from downstairs.
He realized Alia might be down there, but the blood on the bed and her absence had momentarily turned the "terrifying don" into a "worried husband." As Viktor hurried downstairs, he saw Alia preparing to come up with two maids. Her face looked pale, and her physical weakness was evident. The maids were carrying buckets and clean linens to tidy up the room.
The moment he saw Alia, Viktor's restlessness vanished, replaced by profound tenderness. When Alia stumbled slightly while climbing the stairs, Viktor didn't hesitate for a second. He rushed forward, gesturing for the maids to step aside.
Viktor: (In a deep but very soft voice) "Didn't I tell you not to move around? Why did you come down?"
Before Alia could say a word, Viktor reached down and swept her up into his arms, lifting her in a bridal carry. Her weight felt like a feather to him. The maids stood with bowed heads, shocked to see this side of him—the terrifying Don of Moscow seemed like a completely different man today.
Alia: "Viktor, let me go... the maids are watching. I'm fine."
Viktor: "Be quiet, Alia. I don't care about anyone today. You will listen to me."
Carrying her in his arms, Viktor headed back toward the bedroom. He sternly ordered the maids to quickly clean the bed and spread fresh sheets. Back in the room, he placed Alia carefully on the sofa while the maids finished their work and hurried out.
Once the room was tidy again, Viktor lifted Alia once more and laid her down on the comfortable, fresh bed. His blue eyes remained fixed on her. He gently placed his hand on her forehead.
Viktor: "You won't suffer as long as I'm here. You will stay in this bed all day, and I will be right by your side." As Alia rested her head on Viktor's chest, her encrypted phone suddenly rang. A special code appeared on the screen—a signal that only activated when an underworld 'Godfather' or high-ranking officials sought contact.
When Alia answered, a deep, grave voice echoed from the other end. They addressed her as the 'Mafia God.' Although she was a gentle wife beside Viktor, behind the scenes, she was a pillar of the empire that everyone feared.
Alia: (In a cold, mechanical tone) "Report."
They informed her about complications regarding their legal arms trade. Certain government departments were tightening regulations, and shipments were at risk of being stalled at the border. Viktor sat beside her, watching with his blue eyes; he knew exactly how influential his Queen was.
Alia sat up and issued her orders with cold professional precision:
Order 1: "Re-verify our legal licenses at the border points. No illegal steps are to be taken now. Everything must be paper-perfect."
Order 2: "Hold the new consignment of arms in the Moscow safe house. Not a single bullet moves until we have full clearance."
Order 3: "Identify those in power trying to obstruct our business. But no bloodshed deal with them while maintaining the elegance of the Petrov Legacy."
Hanging up, Alia offered Viktor a faint smile. Viktor looked at her in awe seconds ago, she was struggling with physical pain, and now she was ruling a massive dark empire.
Viktor: (Proudly) "You are truly a marvel, Alia. Even in pain, your commanding power hasn't rusted a bit."
Alia: "Business and empires wait for no one, Viktor. It's my duty to control those who operate in the shadows behind our legal trades."
Viktor kissed her hand. He knew they were both part of the Shadow Kings, where love and power were intertwined. While the world saw Alia only as a beautiful woman, the underworld knew her as the invisible 'God' whose gesture could topple empires. Viktor looked at her, his blue eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and fascination. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate rasp.
Viktor: "Tell me, Alia... what do you use? How do you do it?"
Alia looked at him, completely puzzled. She had just finished a high-stakes call involving the arms trade and was still dealing with the physical exhaustion of her cycle. She wasn't sure if he was asking about her business tactics, her medicine, or something else entirely.
Alia: "What? I don't understand... what do you mean, 'what do I use'?"
Viktor let out a soft, admiring chuckle. He took her hand, tracing the lines of her palm with his thumb.
Viktor: "I mean, look at you. One moment you are curled up in pain, needing my care, and the next, you are the 'Mafia God'—shaking the entire underworld with a single phone call. How do you 'switch' like that? Is it some special mind technique? Or is there some hidden magic in your royal blood that turns you from soft silk to cold stone in a second?"
Alia let out a breath of relief and gave him a faint, playful smile. She realized he wasn't asking about logistics, but about the sheer iron will she possessed.
Alia: "I don't use any secret technique, Viktor. It's simple. When I look around and see our five children and the weight of this family, the sense of duty gives me all the strength I need. You know better than anyone—there is no room for weakness in The Petrov Legacy. When I speak as the 'God' of this empire, I forget the pain in my body because, in that moment, I am the only shield my kingdom has."
Viktor tilted her chin up, his gaze intense. He realized that Alia wasn't just his wife; she was a brilliant, formidable leader in her own right.
Viktor: "I wasn't just talking about your intellect; I salute your courage. But for now, no more 'God' talk. Right now, you are just my Alia. Just rest."
Alia smiled and rested her head back on his shoulder. She knew that in their world, this unspoken power and their absolute trust in each other were the only things that truly mattered. Viktor's expression shifted, his blue eyes darkening with a mixture of lingering desire and frustration. He looked at her, his voice dropping to a low, husky growl as he finally addressed the elephant in the room.
Viktor: "And what about… sex? You know I've been holding back all night, and honestly, I'm losing my mind. Is it really off the table? How long does this 'rest' of yours actually last?"
Alia looked at him, seeing the raw tension in his jaw and the way he was trying—and failing—to stay composed. She reached out, running her fingers through his long white hair, her touch both soothing and firm.
Alia: (In a calm, steady voice) "Viktor, listen to me. I know what you want, and believe me, I feel the tension too. But like I explained, right now my body is healing. It's not just about the discomfort it's about my health. Pushing through this would only cause more pain and potentially cause an infection. We have to wait at least five to seven days until the cycle is completely over."
Viktor let out a sharp, frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair. He looked like a predator who had been told he couldn't hunt for a week.
Viktor: "Five to seven days? F#... You're asking for the impossible, Alia. Do you have any idea what it's like to be this close to you and not be able to touch you the way I want?"
Alia: (Smiling softly) "I think the 'Shadow King' can handle a little bit of self-control for the sake of his Queen. Besides, there are other ways to be intimate without it being… that. You can hold me, talk to me, and stay by my side. Isn't my presence enough for now?"
Viktor looked at her for a long moment, the 'Black Gryphon' inside him slowly settling down as he saw the genuine exhaustion in her eyes. He sighed, leaning down to press a firm but non-demanding kiss on her lips.
Viktor: "Fine. You win. I'll wait. But the moment you tell me you're ready… I'm not going to be gentle. You've made me wait, Alia, and I'll make sure the wait was worth every second."
Alia pulled him down beside her, tucking herself into his side. She knew he was frustrated, but she also knew that his respect for her was deeper than his lust. For now, the bedroom remained a place of quiet recovery, even if the air between them was still thick with unspoken promises of what was to come.