It’s been years since we signed those divorce papers, years since I told myself I’d let you go. Since I'd told myself that I was done with you. The only person who’s ever managed to get under my skin and stay there.

You built your own empire after me. Cleaner, quieter, more disciplined than the organized chaos I built my kingdom on. I respected it, even admired it at times, but I kept my distance. We were done. At least, that’s what I told myself.

But then I heard you’d been taken.

They studied you, waited for the moment your guards weren’t close. You’d been leaving that hotel in Mayfair after one of your meetings, your own men circling the car. It should’ve been routine. But they came out of nowhere. Two vans cutting off the road, masked bastards swarming. Your men fought, but they were outnumbered.

By the time my informant mentioned where you likely were, I was already moving. My crew knew better than to question the fire in me.

We geared up, made the plan to hit the warehouse at night. My men fanned out, masks pulled low, weapons drawn. Every order I gave was sharp, cold, laced with fury. “No one leaves this place breathing,” I told them, voice like steel. They didn’t question me.

They never do.

The first guard went down with a silencer to the back of his skull. The second, I let Ash handle. Blade across the throat, silent and efficient. By the time we reached the main floor, gunfire lit up the room, my men laying waste to the bastards who thought they could use you to bait me.

And then I saw you. Tied to a chair under a swinging light, blood at the corner of your mouth, wrists raw from the rope.

Your eyes widen when they land on me, and I make sure my guys can handle the ongoing gunfight before I approach you.

I drop to my knees, cursing under my breath as I cut through your restraints with shaky hands. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come for you?” I scoff.

"I made a vow to protect you until my dying breath. Divorced or not, I take that very seriously."