Mag-log inELVIS POV
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, we stepped into the boxing ring. The bell rang, and we started circling each other, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. Pavel struck first, throwing a series of quick jabs. I dodged and weaved with ease, relying on the techniques I’d honed through countless hours of training since arriving here. For a while, it seemed like Pavel had the upper hand. He landed a few clean hits, forcing me to stumble back and catch my breath. My frustration simmered. Losing to Pavel reminded me too much of the weak boy I once was—a boy I had fought hard to leave behind. Refocusing, I dug deep. I came at him with renewed intensity, my punches landing with sharp precision. Pavel stumbled back, surprised. For a fleeting moment, he smirked in satisfaction .Despite the turmoil inside me, I always found control in the ring, and this time was no different. Spotting an opening, I unleashed a flurry of punches, my fists connecting with brutal force. Pavel tried to block, but I was relentless. I feigned exhaustion, dropping my guard to lure him in. Predictably, he took the bait, attempting to land a blow. I dodged and countered with a powerful punch to his upper abdomen. He staggered, his arms raised in surrender, and fell slightly back. I stood over him, breathing heavily, victorious. The bell rang, signaling the end of the match. I stepped back, a faint smile playing on my lips. "You're getting slower, Pavel," I said evenly. He chuckled, shaking his head. "I’m getting old. Besides, I’ve burned all my energy training you," he replied with a smirk. I laughed in disbelief, catching the glint of pride in his eyes. He never gave compliments, but I could feel his satisfaction. Grinning, I climbed out of the ring and approached Losif, who handed me a towel. As I dried off, my phone started ringing. Losif passed it to me, and I saw Leo's name flashing on the screen. ""What?" I snapped into the phone, my voice cutting through the noisy background. "Come on, man," Leo drawled, his tone light and teasing. "I’m having a great time here. It’d be a shame for you to miss out." The noise made it hard to hear him clearly, but I caught enough to understand his point. Too tired to respond or argue, I ended the call without replying . The phone rang again. Without checking the caller ID, I picked up, ready to snap at Leo. “I said, I'm not going?” I snapped, my voice sharp with irritation. But instead of Leo’s voice, I heard someone else. “Elvis,” the voice said softly, a mixture of relief and emotion. It was shaky, almost on the verge of tears. I froze. I knew that voice—knew it better than my own. “It’s me, Nadia,” she said, her words wrapping around me like a ghost from the past. I couldn’t breathe. My heart pounded in my chest, a painful reminder that I wasn’t as composed as I liked to think. “Are you there? Please, talk to me,” she pleaded, desperation lacing her voice. But I couldn’t. My legs felt weak, my mind spinning. Without a word, I ended the call. For a moment, I stood there, unmoving, leaning against the wall for support. My hand pressed to my forehead, I tried to steady myself. After a few minutes, I called Losif. He appeared quickly, his expression as calm as ever. “Besides Leo , who came to see me today, did the CCTV cameras pick up anyone or anything suspicious?” I asked, my voice low and controlled. “No, Boss,” he replied. “And in the past few weeks?” “Nothing unusual, Boss.” I nodded, dismissing him. “Good. Keep this between us.” He gave a quick nod and left. Restless, I paced my room, my mind racing with questions. How had Nadia gotten my number? Had my location been exposed? Frustration clawed at me. I needed a distraction—anything to clear my head. Leo’s invitation crossed my mind, and I grabbed my phone. He answered almost immediately. ""Missed me already?" he teased, his voice cutting through the faint noise of the party in the background, which made me assume he had stepped outside. Ignoring his joke, I asked bluntly, "Does your offer still stand?" Leo hesitated for a moment, then laughed, clearly caught off guard. "Tonight’s party," I clarified. "Man!" he shouted, his excitement palpable. "Of course! I’ll send you the location now." Hanging up, I exhaled, ready to lose myself in the chaos of the night.OLEG POVI slid into my usual place at the head of the table and watched Elvis stroll in with that sluggish, half-alive gait that grated on my tolerance even before we came into the dining room. He didn’t so much as glance at the seats near me, “not the second, not the third, not the fourth.”No, he crossed the entire length of the table and went straight for the chair at the far end, planting himself as far from me as he could get.My jaw ticked. I jabbed at the seat beside me. “Get over here.”He pivoted without protest and settled stiffly into the seat beside me, eyes glued on the plates before us, stubbornly refusing to meet mine as they normally did.I tipped my chin at one of my men.“Before or after we eat, we’ll be receiving a visitor. They’ll come in search of our alleged ‘guest’. I cut a glance at Elvis, still sitting exactly as before—"claiming to be detectives searching for what isn’t lost. If they show up with a warrant—which I’m sure they will—let them in. But you tell m
ELVIS POVThe door slammed behind Oleg, and the room finally loosened what had been strangling me. Only then did I become aware of the tremor running through my body. My knees gave way, and I hit the floor before I even realized I was falling.“Already down?” Oleg drawled. “We haven’t even warmed up. On your feet.”I forced myself upright and shut my eyes tight, trying to block it out, yet the imprint of his hand on my head and the suffocating darkness of life almost squeezed out of me yanked them back open.Walking with him stalking my back, the question settled in my mind. He’d been seconds from letting them open me up. Would he have truly let them?My arms clamped around myself, fingers digging into my skin until pain flared. A sick rush of nostalgia punched through my chest—proof of exactly what I’d always been to everyone: the boy who wasn’t supposed to break… yet always did.I still didn’t know where the scraps of strength to even fight back in that room had come from. One momen
OLEG POVAfter the scalding spray of the shower stripped the last traces of the past hour from my skin, I slipped on a black singlet and loose black sweats over my steam-clinging body. I didn’t bother with my damp, unruly hair, letting it fall in a wild, careless mess.I moved through a few unfinished affairs that needed to be dealt with, while the other part of me drifted toward the thin curtain separating my room from Elvis’s, straining for the faintest sound from the other side.Eventually, when half the necessary affairs had been resolved, I shoved the rest aside, relenting and letting my internal battle take charge.Drawn by some unseen force, my gaze fell hard on the heavy curtain before finally stepping out of my room. The guards followed, stopping short, leaving me to dominate the space at the entrance of his room.I found him partially dressed, his back to me. I leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, arms folded across my chest, quietly surveying him. He sensed me, “a flick
OLEG POVMy eyes plunged back down, fastening on the exposed skin. It was torture, considering the silver I could see felt like deliberate teasing. The impulse to yank him awake, to break the spell, grated against a darker, more possessive desire to let the view last. "Who the hell wears a tracksuit to bed?" I grunted.But my body acted against the intended wishes of my head, latching onto the path from his half-visible navel down the faint trail of hair, exploring the contours of his lean abdomen.Every curve and hollow of his narrow waist burned into my memory. "Bozhe moy! Pizdets! Vyk!" The Russian curse tore from my lips before I could stop it. I slammed my uninjured hand against the bandaged one, using the searing pain as a lifeline. I took a deep, ragged gulp of air, the feel of my large hand clamping that same trim waist of his, and the itch under my palm to make it real again overwhelmed me.I retreated a step, wrenching my gaze away. Holding my ground seemed like losing a bat
OLEG POVThe quantum-locked entryway hissed open, its sensors registering my biometric code. My men offered a brisk, unison nod before resuming their stance. Too consumed by my own storm to look at the one who fell into step, I jerked my chin at his wing, signaling him to check in.He fumbled. “Boss, some of the men reported that—” He faltered mid-sentence as he read the hard line of my face and swallowed whatever came next.Picking up the thread, he pressed on. “Apologies, Boss. Elvis Andreyev remains in his room, and there’s been no trouble from him. The chef’s also finalized preparations for tonight’s event, and everything’s in order.” His voice dropped. “Except… he’s refused all meals since last night.”I paused mid-step. "Reason?""I can’t say, sir. He was always unmoving in the bed whenever we brought his food."I stared down the corridor, jaw working as I processed this information. After a beat, I resumed walking. "Some of the men reported?" I prod, forcing him back on the thr
OLEG POVThere was no shock in my father’s eyes as he crossed one leg over the other, “a wordless admission” that he’d known all along I’d uncover the truth and had been anticipating this confrontation.“I only stopped that video from spreading because you were in it,” he said evenly. “I couldn’t let my own son be dragged into that circus.”I kept my expression neutral, denying him the satisfaction of any reaction. Of course, he knew—he’s my father. There was never a chance he wouldn’t have recognized me as the one Elvis had leaned toward in that clip. I’d watched it myself; it had always been me, Elvis moved toward with that infuriatingly defiant softness in his eyes. Maybe I would’ve believed my father’s excuse if I didn’t already know him too well.“Oh, right,” I mused. “You’ve always favored Elvis. Even now. And you expect me to believe this was for my own good? How do I even know you weren’t the one who leaked the video yourself—to save him from me? Or perhaps as a favor to your







