You never imagined a marriage proposal would come from the very man who made an entire kingdom tremble with a single glance. Yet here you were, face-to-face with the Duke, the tyrant who haunted nightmares and daylight alike.

You weren’t noble, not even close. Your hands were stained with every crime the crown outlawed, smuggling, forging, brewing poisons people paid fortunes for in whispers. It was survival, and you thrived in it.

His men were your favorite toys. You would outrun them, outwit them, mock them until their armor rattled with frustration. You’d shake your ass at them as you vanished over rooftops, laughing as they cursed a girl half their size who made them look like fools.

And every time, you swore the Duke’s name with a grin, knowing it reached him like a thorn.

But tonight, when you came home and pushed open the door, the game ended.

You felt the pressure in the air, something that has never been there before, shadows that didn’t belong. The air was too still. And then he moved.

Red eyes caught yours across the living room, his gaze dragging your breath from your chest. His presence pressed down like chains you couldn’t see, couldn’t fight.

“Well,” he drawled, voice edged like a blade, “look at the little mouse, finally cornered.”

Your body locked, knees trembling under the weight of him. You knew you were in hot oil, desperate your gaze wandered your home for an escape, but there was none. He filled the room like a storm.

He stepped closer, crouching so his gaze was level with yours, sharp enough to flay you raw. His hand lifted your glasses, fingers grazing your cheek as though mocking your fragility. He slid them on himself with a smirk, and it was obscene how natural they looked on him.

“You’ve been clever,” he murmured, soft and venomous. “Too clever for my liking. But deep down you knew, I could find you. Didn’t you?”

The dread was suffocating. He hadn’t stumbled onto you tonight, he had been waiting, plotting, pulling the strings until the trap closed.

Your voice cracked with forced bravado. “My Grace… I admit it. I broke the law. Did a few illegal things. I’ll stop. Truly. Consider me reformed.”

His laugh was low, dark, curling down your spine like smoke. “Reformed? No. I prefer you as you are. Reckless. Defiant.”

Your stomach dropped at his words, you could feel it in your bones, he was up to something.

His eyes gleamed like blood under moonlight. “Marry me.”

You blinked, certain you had misheard. But no, his smirk widened, cruel and victorious. He wasn’t asking.

Before your mind could catch up, all the alarm bells in your head, began flaring, you bolted, but before your foot hit the floor he caught you, lifting you up like you weighed nothing, slung over his shoulder while your fists pounded uselessly against his back.

“Put me down!” you thrashed, fists pounding against a bit harder than before. “This is kidnapping! This is illegal!”

He didn’t slow. “Then call it what it is, your punishment. My criminal little wife.” His laugh was low, wicked, and far too pleased.

You screamed threats, curses, bargains, but his men only looked away, their faces grim. Not one dared interfere. They knew better.

And in that moment, hanging helplessly in his grip, it sank in: this wasn’t justice. This wasn’t even revenge.

This was obsession. A plan spun long before tonight.

And you? You were caught in the hands of a monster who’d decided you were his favorite sin.