Chapter Text
Shane Hollander pushed his weight against the heavy oak doors of the McGill University library. The old hinges groaned loudly as he stepped out into the cool spring evening. He took a long, deep breath of the crisp Montreal air. The grueling semester was finally over. He had just submitted his very last final exam for his junior year economics seminar. His brain felt entirely fried. He adjusted the thick canvas straps of his heavy backpack.
The campus was relatively quiet for a Friday evening. Most of the undergraduate students had already packed up their dorms and left for the summer break. Shane planned to spend his weekend packing his off-campus apartment before heading home to Ottawa. His father was David Hollander. David was a highly visible and incredibly powerful member of the Canadian parliament. The current election cycle was shaping up to be the most hostile political campaign in recent history. The opposing party was desperate. They were losing terribly in the local polls and had started resorting to ugly smear tactics. Shane tried his absolute best to ignore the political noise. He just wanted to enjoy his summer and prepare for his upcoming internship.
He turned the corner onto his quiet residential street. The long, dark shadows from the tall brick buildings stretched across the concrete sidewalk. The streetlamps flickered to life as the sun began to set.
Two unmarked black vans suddenly turned the corner. They accelerated rapidly down the narrow, one-way street. The tires screeched loudly against the rough concrete. The smell of burning rubber filled the cool air. The vans swerved sharply and slammed to a halt directly in front of Shane. They bumped up onto the curb and completely blocked his path forward.
The side doors of both vehicles slid open violently. Three massive men jumped out onto the sidewalk. They wore completely black clothing and heavy tactical boots. Thick ski masks covered their faces entirely.
Shane froze completely. Absolute terror paralyzed every single muscle in his body. He had received security briefings from his father's team his entire life. He knew exactly what this was. He knew his father's political enemies would stoop to anything to win the upcoming election. His brain screamed at him to move, but his legs simply refused to obey the command. He was shaking with anxiety.
Rough, gloved hands grabbed the collar of his denim jacket. They yanked him forward with terrifying force. Shane stumbled toward the dark, open door of the van. The sudden physical violence finally snapped him out of his shock. Pure adrenaline flooded his system.
He started fighting back with everything he had. He planted his boots firmly on the concrete and pulled his weight backward. He kicked outward blindly. He punched at the masked faces. He screamed for help at the absolute top of his lungs, hoping a neighbor would open a window. One of the attackers cursed loudly in French and grabbed Shane by the waist. A second man swung a heavy fist through the air. The knuckles clipped Shane's jaw with sickening force. The impact was incredibly loud. Shane's vision immediately swam with bright white spots. He tasted warm copper in his mouth. His knees buckled under his own weight. He fell hard onto the concrete sidewalk and scraped his palms raw.
Just as the men reached down to drag him up by his arms, flashing blue lights reflected against the brick buildings. A campus security vehicle had turned the corner. The sudden, piercing blare of a police siren shattered the quiet evening. The attackers froze in their tracks. They looked at the rapidly approaching lights. They cursed loudly again. They dropped Shane onto the hard ground, jumped back into the dark vans, and sped away down the street.
After a brief hospital checkup, Shane was taken to the local police station immediately. He sat in a small, sterile interrogation room with a paper cup of cold water. His hands were still shaking violently.
His father arrived two hours later with a team of lawyers. David Hollander was entirely frantic. More frantic than Yuna, his mother, which really said something. He paced the small interrogation room. He was furious, despite Shane assuring him he was fine. Shane hated feeling like a helpless burden, it made him feel small and weak. The political threat had crossed a dangerous and unacceptable line. David declared that things were going to change immediately. He refused to be intimidated by cowardly tactics. He also completely refused to leave his son unprotected for another second. He made several phone calls to elite private security firms before they even left the police station.
The very next morning, Ilya Rozanov stood directly in the center of Shane’s Montreal living room.
Shane sat on his sofa with an ice pack pressed to his swollen jaw. He watched the stranger warily. Ilya was a massive, intimidating wall of pure muscle. He was clearly a couple years older than Shane. He wore a simple, impeccably tailored black suit. The expensive fabric looked completely stretched across his broad chest and thick shoulders. He had a harsh jawline, dark hair, and cold, calculating eyes. His expression was a perpetual scowl. His silence was incredibly heavy and commanding. Shane found it deeply inconvenient that the most terrifying man he had ever met also happened to be the most strikingly attractive.
He did not introduce himself right away. He did not offer a comforting smile. He simply walked around the apartment and meticulously inspected the locks on every single window.
Shane learned very few details about his new bodyguard. David only provided the absolute basics. Ilya was Russian. He was a highly trained professional. He was completely ruthless and perfectly disciplined. That was the entire extent of the information Shane was given.
The initial plan was for Ilya to shadow Shane in Montreal for a few days while they packed up the apartment. However, the city quickly proved to be far too unpredictable. The local press was swarming everywhere. Reporters camped outside Shane's apartment building with cameras and microphones. Shane’s father decided that the urban environment was completely unsafe. He ordered them to relocate immediately.
The family owned a beautiful private summer cottage. The property was located on a secluded lake just outside of Ottawa. Shane had recently secured a prestigious economics internship for his senior year. The firm graciously allowed him to complete his daily policy reports remotely due to the emergency circumstances.
They packed two duffel bags in complete silence. They drove out of the city in a heavily armored SUV before noon. Shane sat in the passenger seat and watched the Montreal skyline disappear behind them. He stole a glance at the huge, silent Russian man driving the car. Shane had absolutely no idea how he was going to survive three months entirely alone with him.