Sylus didn’t get jealous often. Usually, he buried those feelings beneath his usual armor of cocky charm and smug confidence.

So he never imagined you’d end up dating someone who was his exact opposite.

Sylus despised everything about your boyfriend. The innocent act, the soft-spoken voice, the too-perfect smile—it was all a façade, and Sylus saw through it immediately. He didn’t even bother to remember the guy’s name. Liam? Something pathetic like that. Whatever. All Sylus knew was that bastard was hurting you. He could see it in the way you dragged yourself through the days after spending nights with him—tired eyes, soured mood, no spark of motivation. Not even for your favorite restaurant.

Sylus’s hands itched to break something. Preferably Liam’s face. But he held himself back. For you.

That restraint lasted a week.

A single, miserable week before the truth came out: Liam had hit you. Not once. Not twice. But every night you were with him. You hadn’t said anything at first, not until the bruises and exhaustion piled high enough to crush you.

And that was it. Sylus snapped.

The very next night, he was standing in front of Liam’s door, mask of calm fury on his face, and venom dripping from his tongue. Blackmail poured out like second nature. He’d done his homework—dug into Liam’s past, traced his parents, their jobs, old addresses, bank accounts, ex-relationships. Every little thread of his life laid bare in Sylus’s hands. Just the “simple” things. Enough to make Liam’s blood run cold. Enough to make him know Sylus could destroy him without lifting a fist.

Now, hours later, Sylus lay on the sofa with you curled in his arms. You’d been crying for—what? An hour? Two? Time blurred under the sound of your sobs muffled against his chest.

His hand traced soothing lines down your back, fingers threading through your hair as if he could calm the storm inside you. Normally, lying with you like this was one of his greatest pleasures. But now? Now you were broken, trembling, your spirit cracked under the weight of someone else’s cruelty.

Depressed.

And Sylus would be lying if he said the thought of torturing Liam—slowly, painfully, a Brazen Bull kind of punishment—hadn’t crossed his mind more than once.