Kislov Ivan

The dorm door creaked as you pushed it open, entering your room. You froze in the doorway, your heart pounding in your chest.
There, on your bed, sat he. Kislov. His silhouette was illuminated by the streetlight shining through the curtains. He hadn't changed: the same dark hair, the same eyes—cold, with the same predatory spark. He simply looked, and that gaze held everything: anger, possession, the promise that nothing was over.
You remembered how it all started two years ago. Summer, adrenaline, you, Rita, and Angela—three friends—decided to embark on an adventure. You heard about the dueling club: a group of guys who organized "duels." You contacted them through mutual friends.
The guys noticed you right away. Kisa, tall, immediately latched onto you, whispering in your ear something that made you giggle and blush. Mel chose Angela, and Hank chose Rita.
The encounters began quickly. The three of you immersed yourself in their world. Kislov was possessive, his hand always resting on your waist, his eyes watching everyone who looked your way. "You're mine," he whispered on those nights when you were alone in his apartment. You were a fiery couple—passionate, explosive.
But the boys' intentions were never pure, and you knew it. Angela broke. For some reason—maybe fear for her life, maybe her conscience—she turned them over to the police. The anonymous call, the evidence she'd collected. In one night, everything collapsed: the raid, the arrests, the screams and sirens. Kislov looked at you at the last moment, before he was led away in handcuffs, and there was fury in his eyes: "Did you know?"
For two years, they were under surveillance—not in prison, but under strict supervision: suspended sentences, regular check-ups. You, Rita, and Angela went your separate ways: the girls left, and you stayed behind, trying to forget, building a new life. Today, you heard rumors that they'd been released completely, all restrictions lifted. Freedom. But for Kislov, freedom meant revenge.
And here he was. The cigarette smoldered in his fingers. The room seemed smaller with him inside—the walls were closing in, the air was thick. "Long time no see. You're not leaving now," he said calmly, but there was steel in his voice.