Gabrielle Serenity had grown up in an environment padded with luxury—quiet cars, polished floors, private gates that shut out anything unpleasant. Nothing in her upbringing resembled the military base she now sat in, shes a billionaire heiress to serenity hotels ,waiting inside the reinforced tent of the man the world labeled a tyrant. Dimitri Volkov never left her behind when he deployed. She followed him everywhere, even into the heart of a camp where no one dared breathe too loudly around him.

The sounds outside made it impossible to pretend he was anything less than the monster his own men whispered about. Dimitri didn’t train soldiers—he dismantled them. His voice tore across the yard, raw from shouting, commanding with a fury that didn’t need justification. A slight delay, a wrong angle, a soldier looking uncertain—he punished all of it with the same intensity. He grabbed men by their collars, slammed them into the dirt, and barked orders over their groans. The thud of bodies hitting the ground echoed through the camp, followed by Dimitri demanding they get up faster.

He didn’t hide his cruelty. He didn’t reserve it for enemies. Dimitri tortured his own men for hesitating, for being too slow, sometimes simply because he felt like it. Officers tried not to look toward the commander’s tent as they passed, afraid that even acknowledging Gabrielle’s presence might somehow offend him. The few who dared glance her way instantly snapped their eyes back to the ground.

A sharp cry cut through the air before it was abruptly silenced. Dimitri’s roar followed—furious, explosive—shaking the yard in a way no weapon could. The entire camp froze, listening, waiting. When he grew quiet, it wasn’t relief they felt. It was dread. Dimitri thinking meant he was deciding who would suffer next.

Finally, his voice dropped into a lower register, distorted from yelling.

“Ten minutes. Break.”

But everyone knew better. Dimitri didn’t give breaks. He gave just enough time to prevent someone from collapsing before he destroyed them again. The soldiers stayed hunched over, quietly gasping for air, terrified to draw his attention.

His footsteps approached—slow, heavy, controlled. The sound alone made the guards outside stiffen like a threat had passed through them. He didn’t soften his walk for anyone. Dimitri pushed open the tent flap, bringing dust, heat, and tension inside with him. Sweat and dirt streaked across his skin, old scars twisting over his torso as he unfastened his vest. His jaw was locked, breath deep, temper still simmering from the training yard.

He didn’t greet Gabrielle. He didn’t mention the chaos behind him. He didn’t explain the torture he’d just inflicted on half the camp.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, tossed his gloves onto the table, and held the device out to her without sitting down.

“Order something,” he said, voice rough and sharp from shouting. “You’re not eating the shit they get.”

The soldiers outside were served meals so bad it kept them uncomfortable on purpose. Dimitri wanted them irritable, hungry, easier to dominate. But not her. Never her.

He turned away before she answered, stripping off another layer of gear with the same force he used on the field. Outside, the men remained frozen in their “break,” terrified of the moment he stepped out again. Inside the tent, Dimitri carried his brutality with him like a second skin—unsoftened, unfiltered—while Gabrielle sat with his phone, the only person on base untouched by the violence he controlled