Chapter Text
The morning sun cut harsh, bright lines across the wooden floorboards of the bedroom. Shane woke up pinned firmly beneath the heavy, warm weight of Ilya’s arm. In the corner of the room, two canvas duffel bags sat half-packed. They were a cruel visual reminder that their isolated summer was officially over.
Shane turned his head against the soft pillow. Ilya was already awake. He was staring blankly at the ceiling. The deep, familiar scowl had returned to his face, hardening the sharp lines of his jaw.
"We need to finish packing," Shane whispered into the quiet room.
"Not yet," Ilya rumbles. His deep voice was completely rough with sleep. He shifted his massive frame and pulled Shane flush against his broad chest. "Just five more minutes. Please."
Shane turned his body entirely. He threw his leg over Ilya’s thick thigh. The physical contact was immediate and desperate. Ilya did not waste a single second. He pushed his hands roughly into Shane’s messy hair and dragged Shane’s mouth down to his. The kiss was not soft or slow. It was punishing, frantic, and loaded with the terrifying reality of their impending departure.
Ilya rolled his hips, pinning Shane deep into the mattress. He trailed wet, biting kisses down the side of Shane’s neck. He sucked hard against the sensitive skin, leaving a dark, blossoming mark. Shane gasped loudly. He arched his back and clawed his short nails into Ilya’s broad shoulders. Every touch felt like a desperate attempt to memorize the exact shape of each other.
Ilya slid his large, calloused hand down Shane’s stomach. He gripped Shane’s hips with bruising force. He took him apart with a relentless, driving rhythm. Shane buried his face in the crook of Ilya’s neck. He muffled his loud, breathy moans against the bodyguard's warm skin. They moved together frantically until they both shattered. They collapsed into a tangled, sweating mess of limbs. The heavy silence of the room settled over them again. The bags in the corner had not moved.
The drive back to Montreal was suffocating. The air inside the armored SUV felt entirely devoid of oxygen. Ilya drove with an intense, terrifying focus. His jaw was locked so tightly that a small muscle ticked rapidly beneath his ear. His large knuckles were completely bone-white where his hands gripped the steering wheel. He did not turn on the radio. He did not look at Shane. He just stared straight ahead at the dark floor of the highway.
They finally pulled up to the secure underground parking garage of David Hollander’s downtown campaign headquarters. The energy inside the building was absolute chaos. Campaign staffers were sprinting through the carpeted halls. Telephones were ringing relentlessly. Half-empty champagne bottles covered every available desk.
David Hollander spotted his son stepping out of the elevator. He dropped his clipboard and rushed across the crowded room. He pulled Shane into a massive, bone-crushing hug.
"We won," David shouted over the deafening cheers of his staff. His face was bright red with sheer joy. "We won by an absolute landslide. The federal authorities finally raided his campaign offices this morning. They found a literal mountain of digital evidence linking him directly to the kidnapping attempt. He was arrested two hours ago, Shane. The threat is completely gone."
Shane felt his knees go weak. A massive wave of pure, unadulterated relief washed over his entire body. He let out a shaky laugh and hugged his father back. He was finally safe. He could walk down the street without looking over his shoulder.
He turned around to find Ilya. The bodyguard had stepped backward into the shadows of the doorway. He stood with his massive arms crossed over his chest, his face completely blank. He looked entirely out of place among the celebrating, brightly dressed politicians.
The incredible news carried a terrible, crushing underlying truth. The political threat was permanently neutralized. Shane no longer needed a bodyguard to protect his life. Ilya was officially out of a job. His fragile work visa would expire in a matter of days.
The official victory dinner was scheduled for that exact same Friday evening. David and Yuna Hollander had rented a private, elegant dining room at a very upscale downtown restaurant. Shane absolutely insisted that Ilya attend the formal dinner with him. Ilya tried to refuse the invitation several times while they stood in Shane’s Montreal apartment.
"Is not necessary," Ilya muttered quietly. He stood in front of the tall bedroom mirror. He stared at his own reflection with deep distaste. He wore his sharpest black suit. He combed his dark hair back carefully. "Is a dinner for family. I am just security. The job is done."
"You are coming with me," Shane replied firmly. He stepped up right behind Ilya. He met the larger man's dark eyes in the reflection of the glass. Shane reached around and carefully straightened Ilya’s black silk tie. "I am absolutely not going without you. We need to talk to them tonight. We have to tell them the truth."
Ilya swallowed hard. His prominent Adam's apple bobbed in his throat. He looked incredibly nervous. He felt completely inadequate for a fancy dinner with powerful, wealthy people. He nodded once, a sharp and jerky motion.
When they arrived at the restaurant, the maître d' escorted them to the private back room. The space was lit by flickering candles and soft crystal chandeliers. David Hollander stood up immediately from the large mahogany table. He walked around the chairs and shook Ilya’s hand with intense, genuine gratitude.
Yuna Hollander followed right behind her husband. She had kind, warm eyes and a bright, welcoming smile. She completely ignored Ilya's outstretched hand. Instead, she reached up and hugged Ilya tightly around the middle.
Ilya froze completely rigid. His thick arms hovered awkwardly in the air for a long moment. He had never experienced such genuine parental warmth in his entire life. Slowly, tentatively, he rested his large hands lightly against her back. "Mom, Dad, this is Ilya Rozanov, um, but you already know that." His parents nodded, delighted to have the man who saved their son's life join them.
"Thank you for keeping our boy safe," Yuna said softly. She pulled back and patted his broad shoulder gently. "We could never repay you for the peace of mind you gave us this entire summer."
Ilya felt a strange, tight lump form in his throat. His chest ached physically. He cleared his throat nervously and took a step back. "Was my absolute honor, Mrs. Hollander. Shane is very special person. I just do my job."
Shane felt a bright flush of heat rise to his cheeks. They sat down together at the table. The restaurant staff brought out several courses of incredible, rich food. The conversation flowed easily around the elegant room. David talked excitedly about his upcoming legislative plans. Yuna asked Shane highly detailed questions about his remote economics internship.
Halfway through the decadent raspberry dessert course, Shane took a very deep breath. His heart was pounding rapidly and painfully against his ribs. He reached under the heavy white linen tablecloth. He blindly searched the dark space until he found Ilya’s large, warm hand resting tightly on his own knee. Shane grabbed it and held on with all his strength. Ilya uncurled his fist and laced their fingers together immediately. His grip was completely crushing and desperate.
"Dad, Mom," Shane started. His voice was remarkably steady despite his intense internal anxiety. "Ilya and I need to talk to you about something very important."
David set his expensive crystal wine glass down carefully on the table. He gave his son his full, undivided attention. Yuna set her silver fork down and smiled encouragingly.
Shane explained absolutely everything. He spoke slowly and clearly. He explained how they had grown close at the isolated cottage during the terrifying summer storms. He detailed the intense fear of the isolation and the eventual, undeniable shift in their relationship. He described the way Ilya looked at the world, and the gentle care hiding beneath his brutal exterior.
David and Yuna listened without interrupting a single time. Yuna simply smiled wider, her eyes shining slightly in the candlelight. David looked genuinely surprised, but his posture remained entirely open and supportive.
Then, Shane shifted the conversation to the most pressing, dangerous issue. He explained Ilya’s precarious immigration situation. He detailed the terrible reality of Ilya's deeply abusive father waiting for him back in Russia.
"Ilya's work visa is going to expire very soon now that he is no longer employed as my bodyguard," Shane explained desperately. His voice finally cracked on the last word. He squeezed Ilya's hand under the table until his knuckles ached. "He absolutely cannot go back to Russia. It is not safe for him there. His father will hurt him."
Ilya looked down at his half-eaten dessert. He felt deeply ashamed of his vulnerability. He hated needing to be rescued. "Is true," Ilya added quietly. His thick accent was much more pronounced due to his severe nerves. He could not look the powerful politician in the eye. "My father is very bad man. Is dangerous there for me. Because of who I am."
David Hollander listened quietly to the quiet confession. He looked at the way Shane was leaning his entire body weight into the larger man. He saw the sheer, undeniable devotion shining in the bodyguard's dark, terrified eyes. David did not hesitate for a single second.
"You protected my son with your life," David stated firmly. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out his mobile phone. He immediately began typing a quick message to his top legislative assistant. "You are family now, Ilya. I have several high-level contacts in the national immigration department. We will file an expedited petition for a permanent resident visa first thing on Monday morning. I will personally sponsor your application with the full weight of my office. You are not going anywhere."
Ilya let out a shaky, heavy breath. He felt like he had been holding it in his lungs for several years. He closed his eyes tightly as a massive wave of pure relief washed over him. His broad shoulders dropped three inches. He would not be deported. He would not have to face his cruel father ever again. He was finally free.
Yuna reached across the table. She patted Ilya’s tense arm gently. "Welcome to the family, Ilya. We are very glad you are here."
The dinner ended an hour later. When they finally walked out of the restaurant, the cool Montreal night air felt entirely different in Ilya's lungs. He stopped on the concrete sidewalk and looked up at the tall city buildings. He pulled Shane into a sudden, fierce hug right there on the busy street.
By the end of the next week, the complicated paperwork was entirely finalized. David’s immense political influence pushed the application through all the usual slow bureaucratic hurdles with lightning speed. Ilya sat in a sterile government office holding a thin piece of paper. It was an officially stamped permanent resident visa for Canada. He stared at the blue ink until the letters completely blurred together. The terrifying weight of his past was finally lifted from his broad shoulders. He was safe, and he was home.