Chapter 002

ELVIS POV

As I shut my bedroom door behind me, I leaned against it, exhaling a long, weary breath. The ghosts of my past hovered in the dim silence, threatening to take over, but I couldn’t let them. Not now—not when the stakes were higher than ever.

Pushing away from the door, I moved toward the bed and collapsed face-first onto it, desperate to sink into its embrace. Sleep was the only escape I wanted tonight. Just as my body began to surrender to exhaustion, the piercing trill of my phone shattered the quiet. I groaned in frustration, assuming it was either Noah or Leo playing a prank at this hour. Ignoring the call, I buried my head in the pillows and willed myself back to sleep.

But the ringtone came again.

I sighed, lifting my head and scanning the room for the sound. It wasn’t on the nightstand or the dresser. The noise came from my study. Dragging myself up, I headed toward it. When I finally found the phone and glanced at the screen, my stomach twisted. The number was unfamiliar.

My nerves prickled. Since moving here, I’d changed everything—my number, my name, even the threads of my identity. I’d cut off anyone who knew me back in Russia. I severed ties so cleanly that even calling my mother—a number I knew by heart—felt like stepping into forbidden territory.

My father never explicitly forbade me from reaching out to her. The closest he came was giving Pavel a simple instruction: “Don’t call your mother,” spoken as if the weight of his words alone would be enough. He hadn’t called me either—not once since I was sent here, treated like an outcast with some disease he feared would infect him. Like a son he no longer wished to recognize.

The phone kept ringing, and dread seeped into my chest. What if it was Oleg? What if he’d found me? My hands trembled as I placed the phone on the desk, staring at it like it might explode. Panic set in. My gaze darted to the windows—locked. My breathing quickened.

A sudden knock at the door startled me, and I nearly jumped. Heart pounding, I moved to the drawer and pulled it open, revealing the cold steel of my gun. My fingers hovered over it, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to pull the trigger again.

“Young Boss, are you in there?”

Pavel’s voice brought me back. Relief washed over me as I let out a shaky sigh. Closing the drawer, I grabbed my phone and noticed the call had stopped. I walked to the door, pulling it open to find Pavel standing there.

“Leo’s already left,” he said.

I nodded silently, his eyes studying me with quiet concern. Though he didn’t comment on my disheveled state, he spoke carefully. “Do you have time for a boxing match? I thought it might help clear your head.”

He knew boxing was my outlet, my way of shaking off stress. Whether his suggestion came from concern or his own need for a fight, I couldn’t tell. But I agreed anyway.

“Yeah, give me a minute. I’ll meet up with you.”

As I followed Pavel downstairs to the boxing ring, I felt my tension begin to ease. The ring was more than just a space—it was my sanctuary, a place where I had control and could channel all the pent-up energy coursing through me. Though I wasn’t one for unnecessary bloodshed, there was something about sparring matches that I found oddly satisfying.

When we arrived at the ring, I noticed Losif was already there, his sharp eyes fixed on me. He gave a slight bow and greeted me with a formal, "Good evening, Boss." I nodded in acknowledgment, keeping my response curt. Losif and I rarely spoke beyond what was necessary; our interactions were always professional and distant.

Pavel, on the other hand, was different. Though we spoke more casually, there was still a barrier between us. I didn’t trust him entirely, and that created a gap neither of us tried to bridge.

After we both suited up, ready for the match.