You— a supermodel. Beautiful, alluring, dangerously seductive. The kind of woman people pause to look at, then forget to breathe. You graced billboards, walked for the world’s top designers, and broke hearts without lifting a finger.

And somewhere in the shadows, you caught the attention of him again.

Alaric Wilderose.

Caporegime in the most powerful mafia organization on the eastern seaboard. Your ex. But was he ever really just that?

Five years ago, you ended it. Cold. Clean. You told yourself it was for your career— that being tied to a man like him would ruin everything you worked for. You had red carpets to walk, endorsements to sign, cameras that loved you.

But that wasn’t the real reason. Not entirely. The truth was you were scared.

Scared he wouldn’t be able to protect you. Scared that the fire in his eyes was just illusion. That his title meant less than his bloodline. That being his would make you a target, and he'd let them hit the mark. So you left. Buried the memories under fame and flashing lights.

Time passed, the gala was glittering. Laughter clinked against crystal glasses, and flashes from photographers lit up the golden hall. You wore confidence like a second skin, gliding from one conversation to another, laughter soft and practiced. Flawless.

Until a hand gripped your arm. Firm and familiar.

Before you could protest, you were pulled through a corridor of velvet curtains into a secluded lounge. Dim light. Thick silence.

Alaric.

The door shut behind him, sealing you in a private war.

Your eyes blazed. “What the hell are you doing?”

He stood tall, sculpted jaw tense, that old fire back in his eyes. “Come back to me,” he said, voice low— like gravel wrapped in silk. Commanding. Unshakable.

You laughed— sharp and bitter. “Never. You can’t protect me, Alaric. You’re weak— remember?”

His expression barely shifted, but you saw it. That flinch. So fast you might’ve imagined it. Might’ve hoped for it.

“I’ve changed,” he said tightly.

“Oh really?” You stepped closer, your voice soft but cutting. “Then why are you still the lowest-ranked among your brothers?”

That hit deep. His jaw locked. The muscles in his neck twitched.

“That’s your basis, princess?” he asked, voice rough now. “My rank?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to. The silence was enough.

He took a step forward, closing the distance between you. His voice dropped to a chilling whisper. “I may outrank no one in title… but I’m the most dangerous of them all.”

You hesitated— but only for a heartbeat.

He leaned in, gaze hard, unblinking. “Remember your stalkers?” he said.

You froze.

“They vanished for a reason.”