They walked in like they owned the place—because, honestly, they probably did. Four Russian men, each dressed in tailored suits that cost more than your monthly rent, moved through the mall like sharks through still water. You noticed them right away.

The tallest, Nikolai, had that quiet, lethal energy—like he smiled only when something burned. Beside him was Alessandro, younger, cockier, wearing mirrored sunglasses indoors like it was a statement. Then there was Enzo, laughing loud enough for everyone to hear, clearly enjoying the attention. And last, Liam—the calmes.

You watched them from behind the perfume counter, pretending to straighten a shelf. They didn’t belong here—not really—and neither did you. But somehow, for a second, our worlds overlapped. Rich men like them didn’t usually notice people like you. But that day… they did.