FAZER LOGINThe press room at City Hall was packed with people. Reporters sat in long rows of chairs, holding up recording devices and notebooks, while news camera operators stood on raised platforms at the back of the room with their heavy camera rigs. The room was noisy, filled with the sound of dozens of people talking over each other, camera lenses clicking, and microphones being tested.Eli stood near the back exit doors, wearing a dark jacket over a clean collared shirt. His hands were resting in his pockets as he leaned back against the wall. He was out of the way of the camera crews, but he had a clear view of the wooden podium set up on the stage at the front.Lucien walked onto the stage from a side door, accompanied by two city security guards and his campaign manager. He looked immaculate in a navy blue suit, his posture straight and composed as he stepped up to the podium and adjusted the height of the main microphone.When Lucien looked out across the crowded room, his eyes scanned
Two open suitcases lay side by side on the king-sized bed, looking like two completely different worlds colliding.On Noah’s side, the hard-shell case was overflowing with high-performance running shoes, resistance bands, recovery slides, and neatly folded athletic gear. On Cassian’s side, the bag looked like an electronics surplus store—tangled charging cables, portable power banks, two laptops in padded sleeves, and a small hard case filled with extra drive arrays.Noah stood over the bed, holding three different pairs of running shoes in his hands, staring down at his luggage with absolute concentration.Cassian came out of the closet carrying another black gear pouch. He took one look at Noah’s half of the bed and stopped dead in his tracks. "Noah. No.""What?" Noah asked, looking up with genuine innocence."You are not bringing three pairs of running shoes for a ten-day vacation on a tropical island that is eighty percent water," Cassian said, tossing his gear pouch onto the beds
The kitchen counter was completely buried under fresh ingredients. A large, silver-skinned fish rested on a thick wooden cutting board, surrounded by small glass bowls filled with sliced red chilis, crushed garlic, and bright green lime wedges. The sharp, clean scent of citrus and crushed lemongrass already filled the air, replacing the usual quiet of the penthouse apartment with something warm and alive.Eli stood over the stove, wearing a simple white t-shirt and an old apron tied tightly around his waist. He adjusted the flame under a stainless steel pan, watching the olive oil begin to shimmer. His movements were slow and deliberate. On the track, he was all explosive speed and hyper-focus, but here, he moved with a quiet, relaxed rhythm. He picked up a wooden spoon, stirring a simmering coconut milk reduction, tasting it briefly before adding a pinch of sea salt.The front door of the penthouse clicked open, followed by the heavy, dull thud of a briefcase being set down on the en
Noah sat on the kitchen island stool, wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants. His legs were propped up on an adjacent chair, wrapped tightly in bulky, black compression sleeves that rhythmically inflated and deflated with a loud, mechanical hiss. It was his post-race routine—forcing the blood back into his sore muscles after pushing himself to the absolute limit on the track. He took a slow bite of his bagel, chewing thoughtfully while his eyes tracked the movement across the living room.Cassian was in his element, which meant the living room looked like a bomb had gone off in an electronics factory.Three separate monitors were set up on the low coffee table, casting a harsh blue glow across the sofa. Wires of varying colors, blue, yellow, and black snaked across the hardwood floor, leading back to a central control unit that looked like a sleek, metallic brick. Cassian was sitting cross-legged on the floor right in the middle of the mess, his fingers flying across a mechanic
The sound of the stadium was still ringing in Eli’s ears, a low, steady hum that vibrated right through the concrete floor of the locker room. He sat on the low wooden bench, his chest rising and falling in a slow, heavy rhythm. His jersey was soaked with sweat, sticking to his back, and his legs felt like lead weights. Running the four hundred meters at this level always did that to him. It emptied him out completely.He bent over, unlacing his running shoes with stiff fingers. The rest of the team had already cleared out, heading toward the showers or the physical therapy rooms, leaving the space unusually quiet.The heavy metal door at the end of the room clicked open. Eli didn’t look up right away, assuming it was Noah coming back for a forgotten water bottle or a trainer checking in. But the footsteps were different. They weren't the light, squeaking slide of sneakers on tile. They were firm, deliberate, and regular.Eli raised his head.Lucien stood just inside the doorway, lett
The kitchen counter in the Chelsea brownstone looked like a flour bomb had gone off, which was a magnificent, chaotic sin against the immaculate, white-marble minimalism Lucien usually insisted on. Eli stood over a heavy wooden rolling pin, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a prominent smudge of yellow cornstarch sitting right on the tip of his nose. He was wearing one of Lucien’s expensive white linen button-downs again—the linen soft from too many washes, the hem hanging halfway down his thighs—and he was entirely indifferent to the fact that he was currently making a total mess of a kitchen that probably cost more than his entire childhood neighborhood in the southern district. A pair of heavy, warm arms slid around his waist from behind, locking him tight against a broad chest. Lucien buried his face into the crook of Eli’s neck, inhaling deeply, taking in the sweet, sharp scent of fresh lemons, butter, and vanilla. "You're tracking flour onto the custom herringbone floors, T
“You’re going to get eaten alive.”“Good morning to you too.” Eli Thorne dropped his bag onto the bed nearest to the window and looked around the room. Two beds, two desks, one wardrobe that was clearly already claimed, and a view of a beautiful courtyard. He loved it at Saint Aurelius from the sta
Eli sat on the edge of the cedarwood table, his breath still a little uneven, his fingers resting against Lucien's shoulders. Lucien stood right between his legs, his hands firmly anchoring Eli's waist, his green eyes looking directly at him.A sudden, sharp knock cut through the room.Eli jolted,
The back office was dark. Lucien stood by the oak desk with his phone pressed to his ear, his jaw set. Across the room, Cassian leaned against the closed door, his usual lazy posture entirely gone."Did you find who sent it?" Lucien asked."The numbers were routed through a regional relay down in t
The noon bell hadn't even finished striking when the first notification hit the courtyard.It started with simultaneous pings from three separate phones near the training tables outside The Bee’s Hive, but within seconds, the sound was echoing across the gravel paths in a ragged chain reaction. St







