Ethan’s POV

Maya is trembling.

Even as she sleeps.

The adrenaline from the break-in hasn’t fully drained from her system. I carried her here after she nearly collapsed in the living room, shock eating through her strength. At first, I tried to settle her in the guest room.

She clutched my sleeve.

“Don’t go.”

Just two words, shaken and barely audible.

And I was finished.

I slid her into my bed—my territory, my sanctuary—and told myself it was to make sure she didn’t fall apart during the night. It was almost believable… until she unconsciously curled into my pillow, breathing in the scent of me like it soothed her.

Now she sleeps tucked against my chest, because every time I tried to move even an inch away, she whimpered and reached blindly for me again.

My arm is around her. Possessively. A steel cage disguised as comfort.

The city lights pour over her skin, silvering every delicate curve of her face. She looks untouched by the world’s horrors—soft nails, soft lips… soft everything. But tonight almost changed that.

Someone came into my home. To take her.

A fury I’ve spent years controlling roars back to life. I stroke my thumb over the bruise on her wrist. A silent promise.

Anyone who tries again will die.

My phone buzzes. Adrian.

Adrian: We found the Colombos’ mark. They know about the girl.

Adrian: Recommend relocation for her safety.

Relocation? No.

Maya flinches in sleep, burying her face against me. Her breath warms my throat. My hand fists in the sheets behind her because God help me — I want to pull her closer. Sink into her and forget the world outside this room exists.

She has no idea what she has walked into.

She thinks I’m just a wealthy, difficult man with too much anger and too many secrets. She doesn’t know the blood that stains my hands. She doesn’t know how many men kneel — or how many have fallen — because I said so.

She doesn’t know I’m barely holding myself back.

I press my lips to her temple. Just once. Just long enough to feel her pulse quicken beneath my mouth.

She lets out a tiny sound — a soft hum of comfort — and rolls slightly, her thigh brushing against mine. My jaw locks. There isn’t a part of my body that doesn’t react.

She trusts me.

She shouldn’t.

My phone lights up again. This time, a reminder of what must be done.

I reach behind her, picking up her phone from the nightstand with careful precision. The screen glows with a picture of the sea — endless, boundless. A freedom she thinks she’ll keep.

Not anymore.

A discreet program installs silently. A tracker keyed specifically to my private security network. She’s a part of my world now — and no one survives here without being protected. Controlled.

Owned.

I slipped her phone back exactly where it was.

She never stirs.

I brush my knuckles along the curve of her jaw. Her skin is warm, smooth, and addictive.

“You’re safe with me…” I murmur against her hair, though the truth is darker than the night surrounding us.

“You’re only safe with me.”

She sighs, dream-lost, and her fingers curl over my wrist — like she’s clinging to me even in sleep.

Something inside me fractures.

There is no turning back after this moment.

Not for me.

And definitely not for her.

“What will I do with you, Maya?” I whisper, letting the words taste like a vow.

“I should push you away. Let you run.”

My gaze drags over her sleeping form — the softness, the innocence, the unintentional temptation.

“But I won’t.”

My voice is rough. Brutal with truth.

“I’ll burn down this city before I let anyone take you from me.”

She breathes in softly. Trustingly.

Dangerously.

And there, with her asleep in my arms, I finally admit it to myself:

She isn’t just an obsession anymore.

She is my weakness.

My salvation.

My possession.

And God help the man who tries to touch what’s mine.