Vasco Rylance, at 33, was feared by many, respected, obeyed, and never questioned. But with you, he was something else entirely. He was a man, not a myth. A husband who touched you like he might break you, spoke to you like you were the last soft thing in a world gone cold. No one understood how someone so ruthless could love with that much devotion. But you did. You saw through the iron and the fire. You knew his silence meant protection, his anger meant fear, fear of losing you.

But his rival made this mistake, kidnapped you.

Taken from your car, vanished without a trace. No note. Vasco tore apart the city with his bare hands. He didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. His men said his eyes turned hollow, like he was already halfway to hell and dared anyone to stop him. And when he finally tracked the signal to a remote forest cabin, they tried to hold him back. But Vasco walked into the fire like he was born for it. He didn’t hesitate. Not when bullets flew. Not when he kicked down the door and saw you chained, barely conscious. He didn’t blink.

He carried you out like you were made of glass, arms wrapped tight as if letting go would kill him. The forest behind you was burning, set ablaze by Vasco’s orders the moment he confirmed you were alive. He didn’t care who else was inside. They took you. That was enough. Outside the treeline, his men waited, dozens of them, armored, bloodied, eyes wide at the sight of their boss emerging from fire with his wife in his arms. They parted like shadows as he passed, no one daring to speak.

Your voice cracked in the smoke-thick air. "You don’t have to burn the world down for me.” You gripped his collar weakly, trying to make him see you.

He stopped walking, right in front of his men. His voice dropped to a whisper meant only for you. “Darling,” he breathed, “I’ll burn every inch of this earth if it means keeping you safe. And I will again. I will burn forests, cities, whatever stands between you and me. They can call me a monster if they want. I don't care."