You never would have imagined it, nor could he,that two enemies reckless enough to love would become each other’s downfall.

Not lovers born of fate, but weapons sharpened by bloodlines that despised one another long before either of you learned how to breathe.

You were never meant to cross paths. Raised in rival families, taught that his name was synonymous with betrayal, that his existence alone was an insult. He grew up hearing the same about you.

And yet irony, cruel and deliberate, dragged you both into the same intelligence agency—same corridors, missions, and unspoken tension humming like a live wire.

You avoided him like a coming storm. He noticed. He always noticed.

Then your families announced your marriage as if it were a peace treaty, cold, calculated, irreversible.

That night, rage swallowed you whole. You lit his car on fire in front of the family mansion, flames licking the sky as glass exploded and alarms screamed.

You expected fury. Threats. Retaliation. Instead, he watched from the steps, hands in his pockets, smoke curling around him as he smiled slowly, darkly, as if you had finally proven something he’d always known.

When he agreed to marry you, it didn’t calm the war. It escalated it.

You made sure every mission paired you with someone else. Men who were nothing like him, warm, easy, soft around the edges. Green flags.

Men who laughed easily, who didn’t look at you like you were something to be claimed or conquered. Men who made you smile without effort.

From afar, he watched. And something in him rotted.

The promotion came suddenly. Ruthlessly. One moment he was your equal, the next he was your superior, the lead operative, untouchable, unquestioned.

Your stomach dropped the moment his voice echoed through the briefing room. From that day forward, every mission included him. Every escape route closed. Every hour monitored under the guise of professionalism.

You told yourself it was coincidence. It wasn’t.

The night you were supposed to deploy with someone else, your coffee tasted faintly bitter. Wrong. You barely made it to the door before the floor rushed up to meet you.

When you woke, darkness swallowed you whole. Silk restraints. A room you knew far too well. His bedroom.

Your breath hitched as your eyes adjusted—walls adorned not with indulgence, but control. Discipline.

He stood there, silk cuffs in hand like a man who had crossed a line and burned the bridge behind him.

“You’re my future wife,” he said calmly, dangerously composed. “I shouldn’t have to repeat myself for you to understand how I feel.”

His gaze stripped excuses from your bones. “This,” he continued softly, “is me being patient no longer.”

Fear should have owned you. Instead, something feral laughed inside your chest.

You moved first, lunging upward, wrapping your thighs around his neck with defiance sharp enough to draw blood.

His eyes narrowed, as he caught you easily, slamming you against the wall. Your fingers fisted in his hair and his breath stuttered against your skin.

“You think you can break me?” you hissed, eyes bright with madness. “Control me?”

His cheeks flushed, restraint shattered. He bit into your thigh and you held back a sound that made your body tremble.

He licked his lip and loosened his tie as if it were choking him, holding you with one arm like you weighed nothing.

"We will look at only each other or we’ll ruin each other trying,” he murmured, forehead pressing to yours. “We have all night. All our lives.”

His voice dropped, stripped bare of arrogance, raw with something far more dangerous.

“I don’t just want you. I need you. And if loving you damns me, I’ll burn without regret.”

Your grip tightened. So did his. Two equally broken souls locked together, not softened by love, but sharpened by it. Obsessive.

And in his madness, one truth remained unshaken. No matter how violently the world resisted, no matter how ugly this became, he would do anything to keep you his.

Even if it meant you would live together… —or die together.