LOGINELVIS POVAt first, I believed the strange orbit he’d built around me was already excessive—surely the most he could tolerate another human being. Compared to now, that level of presence must have meant no more to him than a normal person accidentally crossing paths with a stranger and forgetting them minutes later.These days, however… it felt like Oleg had decided his purpose in life was to exist as some quiet, breathing ghost, glued to my shadow.The strange thing was, we didn’t act like normal friends. No hanging out, no loud jokes like other boys our age, no sprinting around, no talking about girls—though I was quietly glad for that. I’d never been the type to pry when my old friends obsessively argued over who was the prettiest or the ugliest, or all the other nonsense.He never asked about my life, never cared what was happening with me, or how I felt. Since he didn’t, I didn’t bother sharing, and that was fine. I’d long since grown used to keeping things to myself.With Oleg,
ELVIS POVMy eyes widened. Blood rushed in my ears.“Is that fucking real?”“Bad words, kiddo,” he chortled, clearly relishing how it got under my skin.I rolled my eyes and caught a smile—or not?I snatched the book, flipping through pages, confirming the impossible.Bee Brown’s updates had been agonizingly slow. Series one had taken forever to conclude, and I knew the wait for the sequel would feel endless.Yet here it was.Here.I looked up at him, and my face fell into a grin so wide my sore lip throbbed in protest.“I follow her updates… There was nothing about—how did you get—”His hazel orbs never left me.Self-conscious under his stare, I asked, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”His face changed subtly.He reached for the book, but I dodged, clutching it to my chest.“No way in hell.” A foreign laugh bubbled up. “You gave it to me. And I doubt it’d be of any use to you, since I don’t think you read.”How did you get—You’re loud, was all he said.He tugged me toward
ELVIS POVTrue to his word, he'd shown up at school today.I scanned the corridor, confirming we were alone. My fingers traced the tender ridges on my skin—marks left by his teeth.Why do you keep doing that?The question burned hotter than the sting itself. I let out a tired huff and started to stand.“Sit.”His command came before I could react. Every part of me wanted to cause a scene, to drag the hallway’s attention to us, yet I obeyed, dropping back into my seat without resistance.I stared at him as Father’s actions from yesterday replayed in my mind. Annoyance soured into jealousy, then hardened into something closer to hatred. Technically, he’d done nothing wrong, and that only made things spiral further. He was simply existing, and somehow that existence had become the source of everything strange and unnameable blooming outside and inside me.He said nothing, arms crossed over his chest as his strange hazel eyes studied me.“What’s wrong, kid?”The casual address grated.“No
ELVIS POVThree hours later—Thirty of those minutes were wasted in my room, sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing… pretending I was eating a meal that was already rotting in the trash.Pathetic.After that, I went to Luca’s room.Now we were plopped down on the plush foam mat, in our tenth round of some fighting game he’d forced me into—seriously, why hadn’t I joined sooner?My fingers danced like lightning. The controller felt like it had grown onto my hands. I barely nudged the sticks, and my character dodged, struck, and countered like a pro, not once blinking.I didn’t breathe properly either.Another tap—perfect counter.Victory.Again.“Hehe!” I cheered, kicking my hand into the air and dancing, my waist twisting with the motion.Luca dropped his controller.“What? Since when did you get so—so good at games? You hardly play. You don’t even like playing with me. I always beat you!”I ignored him.“What’s the name of this one again?” I asked casually, pointing at the
ELVIS POV“At Age Eleven”After my father found Oleg and me wrapped up in something only close people do, he never made it clear whether he approved or disapproved of whatever it was between us.Even as his strikes rained down twice as hard for my fight performance, I couldn’t be certain. All I knew was that the force behind them had nothing to do with how I’d fought underground.As he struck me again and again—lashes and fists tearing at my skin, hitting the same half-dried wounds—painting my body with blood and swelling bruises, it settled heavy into my bones: being his son was the problem, a debt I could never repay.The same cold look, disappointment laced with a cruel longing, that had appeared in his eyes at the lair—the look that seemed to say Oleg should have been in my place—now seared into me completely.Could I even be sure? Perhaps this was just his way of showing me what being my father’s son meant. Even so, if I wanted to survive or make sense of any of it, the only cho
ELVIS POV“Help? The word sounds so foreign on my tongue. I—I can’t.”My skin prickled, every hair standing on end. My mind flashed to the casual way he had ended lives before, and my insides knotted tight.He knew what my condition had been last time… and still expected me to relive it again.And this time, the action would be mine.“You can’t?” Oleg repeated, his tone completely detached. He didn’t even blink. " Vyx, this isn't your first waltz with death. “You took my brother apart like a professional. Surely you remember. So don’t tell me this is a problem.”“Oleg.... please....” The air rushed out of my heaving chest as I hyperventilated through the denial. “I... really...... can't...... do.... that.”“Oh yes, you can. You simply have to follow my instructions.” He frowned. “First, the gun.”It was like frostbite had crept into my bones. Slowly, my gaze swept over the trembling men bound before me. Fathers. Husbands. Just like the women who went home to someone.”“Mmm… pity, is i
ELVIS POVI nodded toward Luca and Pavel, signaling them to fall back. Pavel complied, retreating slowly, but Luca hesitated, keeping his weapon trained on Oleg. He didn’t lower it until the very last moment before finally stepping back.Oleg yanked me forward by my shirt, his grip tight, his face
ELVIS POV "Seven Years Ago" Despite having visited Chicago a handful of times during school breaks, I was still unaccustomed to its brutal winters. The cold was relentless, even in the early afternoon, slipping through the heavy wool of my black coat as if it sought to settle in my bones. My moth
ELVIS POVBrushing off his comment, I met his eyes, "We are not exactly on brotherly terms to be sitting close to each other," I queried.A hint of mischief glimmered in his eyes. "Sitting in front of someone doesn’t necessarily mean anything, you know that, right? Oleg said smoothly."If you’re ta
ELVIS POVAfter the funeral, thoughts of the boy I had met lingered in my mind. His image remained with me, but as time passed, the memory gradually faded. By the time I turned eleven, he had become a distant recollection. That changed when Sergei Petrov's family moved to our town. Word of their







