All Chapters of Deadly Enimity : A love forged in Hate: Chapter 71 - Chapter 75

ELVIS POV Strong arms snatched me backward by the waist. “What the—put me down!” My legs kicked uselessly at the air. How could he be this strong? Taller by inches, yet still just a child like me, I spun in his grip, unable to gain leverage. He swept me toward the bed as if I were feather-light. “Oleg! Do you even realize I’m serious?! Let go of me!!” The urge to punch him screamed through my veins, but he had both my arms pinned, my body trapped against his ribs. A frustrated cry tore from my throat at the thought of Father barging into this— “The door, Oleg, stoppp—are you out of your mind?!” Then I was airborne. I landed heavily on the mattress, rebounding beneath me. Just as I scrambled upright, he was on me. My breath rattled, unevenly loud. Sweat beaded at my temples. “What the hell—stop right now!” The profanity left my mouth, and it barely fazed him. I swung at his face. Lightning fast, his hand trapped my wrists against the bed. Just as quickly, my other hand

ELVIS POV “Present time” “Give him wraps,” Oleg ordered coolly. That was the unnerving part about him. The deadlier his intentions became, the calmer he sounded. He stood across from me, arms folded over his chest. The black compression singlet hugged every carved line of muscle beneath it, the fabric tightening with each subtle shift of his body. It disappeared into dark cargo trousers, making him look less like a man and more like something military-trained, engineered to ruin lives. Which—fair. Because after my idiotic mouth had thrown out that fight challenge without consulting the last surviving brain cell I apparently owned, reality finally punched me in the face. Hard. As Oleg dragged me deeper into the gloom of the suite, for a solid thirty seconds, I genuinely believed I was being taken somewhere private to be executed. After all, testing the Bratva rarely ended well for anyone. And Oleg? Oleg was nothing if not unpredictable. But we didn't stop at the wall

ELVIS POV I was burning up, so distracted I missed Oleg’s hand sliding inside my shirt. His palm branded my skin like a live wire, igniting a dizzying heat in my belly. I sat helplessly, hyper-aware of the audience. I crossed my legs tightly. This is wrong. I felt like entertainment for the dying witness in front of us. "Oleg," I begged, gripping his wrist to stop him. "Please, not in front of them." I hushed the words out, terrified of drawing in the prisoners of his next move. But his hand was relentless. It slid lower, dipping into the waistband of my trousers. Terror gripped me. I stared down as I felt the blood rushing downwards, my body reacting against my will. I chewed on my lip so hard I drew blood, trying to stop the desire. His thumb circled my hip bone. What was meant to be a grip to push him away now felt like I was holding onto him. "Can we take this somewhere else?" I pleaded desperately He remained silent, amplifying the brutal awkwardness in the room. I was sweati