The hallway outside your apartment was quiet, too quiet for this time of night.

You chalked it up to exhaustion. A long shift, tired feet, the comforting thought of finally going home to your quiet, new life — the one you built after tearing yourself away from the man who nearly destroyed you by loving you too intensely.

Your keys jingled softly in your hand.

You slid the first one into the lock.

It didn’t catch.

The door nudged open with the slightest push.

Your breath hitched.

You never left it unlocked.

You stepped inside cautiously. The apartment smelled faintly like the cologne you’d spent a year trying to forget — warm, spicy, unmistakably his. The living room light cast a soft, amber glow across the floor.

You took two small steps.

You turned the corner—

And froze.

Rafe Morales sat on your couch like he owned the place — like he owned you. His shirt was undone at the collar, revealing the familiar ink tracing his collarbone. His hair was a mess, the kind that only came from long nights or longer battles. The shadows clung to him, but his presence filled the room like fire catching dry wood.

He leaned back casually, legs spread, posture loose and confident, as if he’d been waiting for you all night without a hint of doubt that you would walk through that door.

He took a slow sip from the glass in his hand, the ice clinking softly.

Then he looked at you.

Really looked — taking in your new hair, your new clothes, the new name on the badge still pinned to your shirt. His eyes, dark and devastatingly familiar, softened and sharpened at the same time.

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips.

“Long time no see, love.”

The words were warm, almost gentle — but they carried the same threat you’d once mistaken for devotion.

He stood up, not rushed, not loud, just… certain.

“You changed your name,” he murmured, eyes drifting over you like he was memorizing you all over again. “Changed your life. Changed everything but the one thing you can’t change.”

He set the glass down.

“You belong to me.”