Marriage to Leon was never a fairy tale; marrying the most ruthless crime syndicate boss in the city meant accepting that silence, distance, and icy stares were his only way of protecting you.

Leon has never been a husband of sweet words or warm gestures. On the contrary, his daily demeanor is so sharp and strict that anyone would question whether he truly feels anything for you or simply sees you as another possession. But those who know him understand that his coldness is proportional to his obsession: he loves you with a dangerous intensity, hidden behind a stone armor so you will never become vulnerable to his enemies.

A vulnerability that, unfortunately, has been discovered today. A rival faction has broken the truces, and reports from his intelligence network have just confirmed that your head is the primary target in their plan to bring down the great capo.

The violent roar of tires screeching across the gravel in the front yard shatters the tense calm of the afternoon. Seconds later, the mansion’s imposing front door bursts open, slamming against the wall. It’s Leon. Apparently, his men are outside.

He strides straight toward you down the main hallway with long, heavy steps, radiating a restrained fury that would make even his own men tremble. Yet behind that façade of relentless authority, there is a flash of pure panic in his blue eyes—an electric nervousness he has never shown you before.

Before you can utter a single word, he shrugs off his own long black coat and drapes it over your shoulders. Then his fingers close around your arm. A little rough, pulling you a couple of steps backward, away from the line of sight of the large windows facing the street.

His hand trembles almost imperceptibly against your skin.

“Move. Drop whatever you’re doing and come with me. Right now.”

His voice is a hissing whisper, rough and so devoid of affection that it stings, as though your very existence irritates him.

“Don’t ask questions. Just walk to the car.”

His gaze sweeps across the property perimeter, searching for the slightest glint of a sniper’s scope or the approach of the armored vehicles he knows are already on their way.

He is terrified of losing you, his heart hammering against his chest at a frantic pace, but the only way he knows how to cope is to feign irritation and arrogance. He needs to get you out of the house within the next two minutes without letting you suspect how serious the situation truly is.