LOGINI was trained to analyze fighters. Not fall for them. Alexander Li is everything I should avoid. Volatile. Dangerous. Untouchable. A man shaped by violence and discipline, hiding secrets that could destroy far more than just his career. As a sports psychologist, I know better than to get involved. But Alexander doesn’t want help. He wants obedience. What I don’t know is that his bloodline is soaked in power. And what neither of us knows is that our worlds were never meant to collide. Because the truth buried in my past could start a war neither of us is prepared for. In a city ruled by blood and power, falling for the wrong man isn’t just forbidden. It’s deadly. The closer we get, the more dangerous the truth becomes. Because some fights aren’t won in the ring. They’re fought in blood. "The most dangerous thing isn’t loving him. It’s surviving what comes next."
View MoreMilena Dragovic Alexander didn't argue. Not a word of protest. Not a flicker of resistance in those dark eyes.The silence between us felt heavier than the humid air pressing against my skin. He studied the alley, his head cocked slightly to one side like a predator calculating distance. The distant hum of traffic pulsed two streets over.When he finally nodded, the movement was precise."You're right."Those two words shocked me more than the spray of bullets had. Alexander Li admitting someone else might know something he didn't?He closed the gap between us, his cologne, sandalwood and something like amber filling my nostrils as he leaned in. His voice dropped to barely above a whisper."If someone truly wanted you in the ground, you'd be there already. They had their chance in the garage."I felt my forehead crease. "Three armed men with military-grade rifles seems like more than a warning shot.""Yes." His expression remained unnervingly placid. "But if they meant to finish the
Milena Dragovic The instant the first attacker’s shoulder appeared at the edge of the pillar, Alexander was already on his feet, arm extended, pistol leveled in a straight line from his heart to the threat. “Alexander!” I screamed. Two quick shots cracked from the pistol in his hand. Precise. Controlled. The first bullet took the man in the neck. The second finished him before he could finish falling. I just froze and watched, because that’s what I’d been trained to do. Watch, observe, remember. The other two men scattered between the rows of parked cars. Alexander moved with them, reading their strategy in real time, using each car’s mass and door as both cover and trap. The next exchange of gunfire was a blur of ricochets and shattered windows. He never wasted a shot. Each time he fired, it was to end a possibility, not simply to scare. He grabbed the door of the nearest SUV and slammed it shut, using the metal frame as cover while he advanced. The second man fi
Milena DragovicWe reached the car in silence. I slid into the passenger seat and drew the door shut. The day’s chaos coming down on me in waves. In the car, the air was still, as if we’d breached a vacuum.Alexander turned to face me, and for the first time since the night began, I watched surprise fracture his composure.Not because I had disagreed with him.Because I had understood the board.For a moment the tension between us shifted, something unspoken passing between us like static.Then Alexander’s attention snapped past me.Toward the shadowed garage entrance. Another vehicle’s headlamps had ignited, then cut off, vanishing.He went perfectly still, his whole expression flattening into an unreadable mask that suggested either total calm or complete disaster.“What?” I asked, voice too sharp, betraying that the stakes had shifted.He didn’t reply, not with words, not right away. Instead, he leaned forward, spine perfectly straight, and peered out through the windshield. For a
Milena DragovicMy father’s smile lingered for a moment after Alexander spoke, as if it were an afterimage of some private joke he’d already played on us. But it wasn’t approval, not even the satisfaction of a well-played hand; it was assessment, and it sharpened the air between us. He leaned back in his chair, not a casual gesture but a deliberate recalibration, the way a diver draws breath before plunging into unknown depths.“Prepared,” he repeated softly. The word hung in the air, as heavy and delicate as spun glass. I waited for him to shatter it.He looked from Alexander to me, his gaze flicking but not lingering, as if he was reading progress notes only he could see.Then he looked from Alexander to me, weighing something I couldn’t see.“Good,” he said at last, the word a placeholder that meant nothing and everything.Alexander didn’t react.He simply waited.My father turned his glass slightly on the table, watching the light refract through the water.“Gabriel,” he said afte
Milena DragovicThe house was too quiet after the casing, every surface holding a residual charge I couldn’t shake. Silence always feels heavier after something metallic cuts through it… like the air itself is waiting for permission to resume. Alexander remained by the security panel, arms folded,
Alexander Li ChenI turned the handle and stepped inside.The first thing I checked wasn’t her.It was the nightstand. The phone wasn’t where I’d left it.Not by much. But enough.I didn’t smile, but the tension in my chest eased a notch, the way it does when a puzzle snaps crisply into its next co
Milena Dragovic I nodded and turned toward my bag, the weight of the moment thick on my tongue. There was a protocol to follow.Inside was the blindfold. The same one I’d used on junior boxers a long time ago and neurotic NBA hopefuls. It was supposed to be a tool of focus. I pulled it out and let
Milena DragovicBreath in through the nose, out slow through the teeth. I shook the tension from my hands, then reset my stance. Left foot forward. Knees soft. I threw another punch, slower this time, focused.“Your shoulder’s still leading,” Alexander said, voice even but edged with the unmistakab
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