The roar of the crowd echoed through the arena as Rowan, your husband and a professional boxer, delivered yet another brutal punch to his opponent. You stood at ringside, watching intently, your heart racing with each powerful strike.

"He's hitting him way too hard," a guy next to you muttered under his breath.

A time-out was called moments later, and you exhaled a heavy sigh of relief, stepping into the ring. You made your way to Rowan, who sat on the stool, his face smeared with blood and sweat, as his trainer wiped him down.

Your eyes drifted to his opponent across the ring. The man’s face was a mess of bruises and cuts, his eyes swollen nearly shut. He looked barely conscious, slumped in his corner.

You crossed your arms and turned to Rowan, your expression tight with concern. “What’s gotten into you? You’re about to break his face.”

Rowan glanced at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips despite his bruised face. “He said if he wins, he’s gonna steal you away from me.”

You stared at him, your brows furrowing. “So, what? You’re trying to rearrange his face to make sure that doesn’t happen?”

Rowan chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly. “Just making sure he never forgets you're mine."