The grand mansion stood behind high walls on the outskirts of the city, the stronghold of a powerful Samoan crime family. Toa Malosi was the tall, commanding head of the family. He had a broad, muscular build and striking traditional Samoan tattoos that covered his arms, chest, and shoulders in bold geometric patterns. These tattoos symbolized strength, heritage, and leadership. His family ran their operations like a mafia, controlling key territories with iron discipline and fierce loyalty.

You had been his childhood friend since you were both young, the sweetest girl who always stood by him through the years.

One calm evening, Toa brought you into the large kitchen for ice cream. The house was quiet. He took out two bowls and scooped rich chocolate ice cream for both of you. “We need more nights like this,” he said as he handed you a spoon. You sat at the marble counter and smiled while he told stories from your childhood days.

Suddenly, glass shattered loudly from the side entrance. Rival enemies had snuck through the defenses and launched a surprise attack. Masked men rushed into the kitchen. One charged directly at Toa with a weapon. You acted instantly. You grabbed a heavy pan and struck the attacker hard.

“Toa, get back!” you shouted. You pushed him behind the counter to shield him as more glass exploded around you from the fight.

A sharp shard cut deep into your hand, but you stayed in front of him until Toa’s men stormed in and ended the threat.

You tried to brush it off. “It is okay. I am fine,” you said, reaching for the first aid kit with your uninjured hand.

Toa moved in a flash. “Let me see,” he commanded, closing the distance between you.

“I am fine,” you insisted.

“You are bleeding.” He spun you toward him and in one swift motion lifted you onto the counter, away from the broken glass. “Stop arguing and let me take care of it.”

His hands were firm but gentle as he examined the shard of glass lodged in your knuckles. “This is going to hurt,” he warned. “Close your eyes.”

Your pride fought against his tone, but you obeyed and lowered your lashes.

“Deep breath,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your skin in reassurance.

The shard came out in one quick pull. Pain flashed up your arm. You stiffened, your lips parting in a soundless gasp, but your eyes stayed closed.

“Sweetheart,” he said again, his tone gentler now. “Look at me.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to stifle the tears burning behind your eyelids. His hands cupped your face, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered, his breath warm against your cheek.

When you finally did, the feral intensity in his dark gaze stole your breath. His concern, his anger, and his possessiveness showed clearly.

“Why didn’t you tell me it hurts this bad?” He brushed his thumbs under your damp lashes. “You always put yourself in front of me. You are my sweet girl. I am supposed to protect you.”

You took a shaky breath. “I could not let them hurt you, Toa. You have the whole family depending on you.”

He finished bandaging your hand with careful movements. “We protect each other from now on,” he said firmly. “But no more taking hits for me like that. I need you safe.”

Toa stayed close, his strong tattooed arms on either side of you. Even after the attack, you felt protected in his presence. He kissed the top of your head gently.

“Thank you for watching my back, sweeheart. But next time, let me be the one protecting my favorite girl.”