CAPTURING REDEMPTION

CHAPTER 6: THE DEAD END

Three days.

Three days had gone by since his stint in that small village.

Three days had gone by since Yevgeny Bogdanov lost all hope, or, more like pinned his hope on his friend—Ilay Riergrow.

The soft glow of the nightly moo filtered through the curtains of Yevgeny Bogdanov's apartment, casting a cold, blue hue across the room. The air was filled with the subtle scent of cologne, a blend of cedarwood and citrus, giving the space an air of sophistication. He stood in front of his full-length mirror, the anticipation of the upcoming encounter with that man coursing through him.

He had spent the last hour meticulously preparing, ensuring every detail of his appearance was flawless. His hair, a striking shade of blond, was slicked back and neatly parted to one side, giving him an air of mature elegance. The rigorous beauty routine he had followed left his skin glowing with a healthy, radiant sheen.

As he stood there, he buttoned up his black shirt with deliberate precision, leaving the top button undone. The open collar revealed a hint of his collarbone and a black eagle tattoo etched onto his chest, a symbol of his resilience and strength. This subtle touch was a deliberate choice, adding a layer of allure to his already captivating appearance.

He slipped into a pair of perfectly tailored black trousers that complemented his shirt, the fabric hugging his frame in all the right places. The sleeves of his shirt were cuffed just enough to reveal his veiny wrists, a small but effective display of his masculinity. On his left wrist, he fastened a silver wristwatch, the cool metal gleaming under the light—a symbol of refinement and elegance.

Yevgeny took a deep breath, the weight of the upcoming meeting pressing on his mind. He adjusted his posture, standing tall and confident. With one final glance in the mirror, he reassured himself that he looked impeccable. His reflection stared back, a blend of allure and strength, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Grabbing his coat from the hanger, he slipped it on and took a last look around his apartment. It was time. As he headed towards the door, he couldn't help but think about the delicate balance he needed to maintain—charm, self-assurance, and an ever-looming smile to hide his true intentions.

With a final glance in the mirror, he squared his shoulders and headed out the door, ready to shoot his shot and win over his enemy, no matter the cost. For in the game of war, he knew that sometimes, sacrifices had to be made in order to emerge victorious, and a man like Yevgeny was ready to sacrifice everything for one glimpse of respect in his enemy's eyes. Apart from extracting his vengeance, Yevgeny was also dying to show him that he was doing well, and he was not the same old, sad teenager. And he was respected everywhere.

His morning had started with a surprise, something he hated with passion since he was not the most patient person until he needed something. Although, this surprise had a twenty-seven-year-old man jumping on his bed. It was a text from a private number, but the words easily led him to the correct conclusion.

Mr. Bogdanov let's go on a date tonight. Garden O' Eden; 7 PM. A car will pick you up.

I don't need the car.

Whatever floats your boat. See you.

As Yevgeny Bogdanov stepped through the grand entrance of the five-star hotel, he was immediately enveloped in an atmosphere of luxury and opulence. The lobby was a sight to behold, with towering marble columns reaching toward the sky and intricate chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow over the space. Plush velvet sofas lined the perimeter of the room, their rich burgundy upholstery inviting guests to sink into their sumptuous cushions.