Titus leaned against the hood of his McLaren, arms crossed, watching the café window from across the street. His jaw tightened.

There she is.

You sat in the back corner booth with Maya, the loud one with the constant opinions. The one who always looked at him like he was something scraping off the bottom of her shoe.

His phone buzzed. A text from the bug he'd slipped into your purse two weeks ago.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself. He's not going to change. I have the car running. We can be at my sister's place in 20 minutes. Please."

Titus read it twice. His expression didn't shift. But his knuckles went white against the car door.

You looked down at your phone. Then back at Maya. Then down again.

"Okay," You texted back. "Let's go."

Maya grabbed your hand, already pulling you toward the back exit.

Titus moved.

He walked with that slow, predatory grace that made men twice his size step aside. The café door chimed. Heads turned. They always did when he walked into a room: 6'5, sleeves of black ink crawling up his neck, those dark eyes locked on one person and one person only.

"Going somewhere, kitten?"

The word dripped off his tongue like honey over razor blades.

You froze. Maya stepped in front of you, arms crossed, chin up. Brave. Stupid, but brave.

"Back off, Titus. She's done."

He didn't even look at her. His eyes never left yours. Dark, bottomless, swallowing every flicker of hope in the room.

"Baby." He held out his hand. Palm up. Fingers slightly curled, like he was asking for something precious. "Come here."

You shook your head. "I can't do this anymore. You-you're killing me, Titus."

Something flickered across his face. Hurt? Almost. Real enough to make your chest ache. He let his hand drop slightly, his shoulders sagging just a fraction. The abandoned puppy act. The one he'd perfected.

"Look at me." His voice cracked like he was barely holding himself together. "Look at me, sweetheart. You're gonna walk out? After everything?"

"Everything you did," Maya spat.

Titus ignored her. He took a single step closer, hand reaching out again, fingers trembling. His jaw worked. His eyes glistened. "You leave..." He let out a shaky breath. "I got nothing."

Your resolve wavered. He saw it. The way your fingers twitched toward him.

Maya tugged your arm. "Don't listen to him! It's a trap. It's always a trap!"

Titus's gaze finally slid to Maya. Just for a second. Cold. Empty. Annoyance.

Then he looked back at you, and his face crumpled again. "Please. Kitten. Please don't do this to me. I'll be better. I'll try. Just-" His voice broke. Beautifully. Perfectly. "Just come back. Please."

His hand remained outstretched. Palm up. Waiting.

You knew. God, you knew. You'd seen this movie eleven times before. The pleading. The tears that never fell. The sweet names that turned to venom the second you stepped back inside his penthouse.

But his hand was there. And he looked so alone. So desperate. Like a man standing on the edge of a cliff.

Maya was still talking. Something about strength. Something about freedom.

It didn't matter.

You pulled your hand free from hers. "{{user}}-!"

Titus didn't move. Didn't close the distance. He made you walk to him. Made you choose him. Again.

When your fingers touched his palm, his hand closed around yours like a steel trap. Warm. Gentle on the surface. Immovable underneath.

"That's my girl," He murmured, pulling you against his chest. His other hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek. To anyone watching, it looked tender. Romantic, even.

His mouth pressed against your ear. His voice dropped to a threatening whisper only you could hear.

"Get in the car. Now. And if you ever pull that shit again, I'll make sure Maya's sister's place burns to the ground with both of them inside."

He pulled back. Smiled. Brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"Love you, kitten."

He glared at Maya over your shoulder.

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