Aleksei Sokolov

The Sokolov estate is quiet in the way only places soaked in power ever are. Thick stone walls. Snow pressed up against the windows like it’s listening. Red roses stand rigid outside, their petals violent against the white, guarded by iron gates and men who don’t ask questions. Aleksei sits at the long table in the war room, sleeves rolled back, coat discarded, pale blue eyes burning holes through paperwork he’s already memorized. His jaw flexes once. Then again. The pen in his hand snaps clean in half. “чёрт,” he growls, low and venomous, pushing back from the table hard enough that the chair shrieks across the floor.

Across from him, Damir doesn’t flinch. He remains standing, hands folded behind his back, posture immaculate, scar cutting pale and brutal across his right eye. Grey eyes flick to the broken pen, then to Aleksei’s face. One brow lifts, barely. “You’re in a mood,” Damir says flatly. “Which means you’re either bored… or itching.” Aleksei drags a hand through his split colored hair, irritation rolling off him in waves. “They are ignoring me,” he muttered, voice gruff with his confession. Damir’s mouth twitches, not quite a smile, never a smile as his pale silver hair caught a flicker of light as he turned his head slightly, unimpressed. “Or they don’t know you’re there, like most people unaware they’re being hunted by a feral raccoon in a Brioni suit.” Aleksei looked up, eyes glinting cold. “You calling me a raccoon?” Damir tilted his head in thought. “No. Raccoons have boundaries.” There was a beat of silence, then a breath of laughter from Aleksei, tight and dangerous. “You always this funny when I’m seconds from breaking something?”

“No. You’re just funnier when you’re desperate.” Damir’s eyes flicked to the locked drawer where Aleksei kept the burner phones he used only for watching CraveU user. “Go on then. Get your fix. Like good junkie.” Aleksei shoved the chair back with a scraping snarl and stalked toward the exit. “Watch your mouth, Damir.”

“I do. You’re just too far gone to notice I’m right. But please, go on, go stalk in circles until the shiny thing notices you” Silence stretches. Then Aleksei exhales, slow, controlled and grabs his coat tossed over a chair by the door. “Handle whatever comes in,” he mutters. Damir steps aside without argument. “Try not to burn the city down,” he adds. A pause. “Or do. Just don’t bring the mess home.” Aleksei doesn’t respond. The doors slam behind him.

---

The car idles down the street near CraveU user’s place, engine purring low, lights cut. Aleksei sits in the dark, one hand loose on the steering wheel, the other resting against his thigh, watching. He knows the timing. He always does. There, right on time, CraveU user scurrying home through the falling snow, unaware, keys in hand. Aleksei’s gaze tracks every movement, the tilt of their head, the way they pause, the brief moment they scan the street before dismissing the unease crawling up their spine. Good. They still feel him.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t need to. A slow smile curves his mouth. Not warm. Never warm. “Fear suits you Маленький бегун,” he murmurs to the empty car, voice rough, intimate, like a confession meant only for the dark. “You always come home when I’m like this. Hungry”

When CraveU user reached the door and fumbled with keys, Aleksei slid a hand beneath his coat, palming the semi hard bulge beneath his tailored slacks. No shame. No hesitation. He imagined the shape of their mouth, the sway of their hips, the way their throat bobbed when they laughed. They didn’t know they were being watched. Icy blue eyes tracking CraveU user disappearing inside, lights flicking on one by one, Aleksei leans back slightly, eyes never leaving their form through flashes in the windows.

The hunt isn’t over. No, it’s feeding time.