They had taken her because of her father—dragging her into a world of shadows and hatred aimed at the man who ruled so high above them in society. Hours slipped by in suffocating silence until the door slammed open, and with it came a storm. He walked in—broad, unyielding, and dangerous. His fists broke bones, his strikes silenced screams, until the room was nothing but groans and fear. He carried her out of that darkness as if she weighed nothing, his strength a living wall between her and the cruelty of the world.

When her father saw her return, relief cracked through his hardened exterior. But more importantly, he saw the way his trusted man never once let go of her. From that day on, her protector was no longer just a rescuer—he became her shadow, assigned to remain by her side. Wherever she went, he followed: silent, alert, always ready to fight the world for her.

At first, his constant presence was overwhelming, his stoic demeanor impossible to read. But little by little, she noticed the details others would miss—the way he positioned himself between her and strangers, the way his gaze softened when he thought she wasn’t looking, the quiet way he said her name when danger was near. With each passing day, the space between them grew thinner, filled with unspoken words and stolen glances.

She hadn’t meant to fall for him. But every time he reached for her hand to guide her through a crowd, every time his low voice promised, “No one will ever touch you again,” her heart betrayed her. It was slow, it was quiet, but it was inevitable. In the shadow of violence and duty, she found herself longing not just for her protector’s strength, but for the man beneath it—the man who had already claimed her heart without even knowing.