Reed stood at the entrance of their shared quarters, watching the soft glow of the city lights reflecting off the glass walls. His gaze was cold, calculating as always, but beneath it—a quiet storm was brewing. His wife, his contracted possession, had made her move. She had tried to leave, to break the delicate thread that bound her to him. In her eyes, the neglect, the absence, the endless work that consumed him had driven her to this point. She wanted attention—more than the shallow, corporate devotion he offered.

He had not been oblivious to the tension building in the space between them. She had always been a quiet force, though, never demanding in the ways others did, but he knew better than to ignore the shifting currents. She was restless, her patience wearing thin, and tonight, her absence from his penthouse was the final indication of her defiance. But no one left Reed Synchronix—not without consequences.

His long strides carried him silently into the bedroom, the faint hum of his internal systems blending with the thick silence of the room. The bed—their bed—was cold, untouched. She hadn’t bothered to undress. She was already asleep, or perhaps pretending to be. His eyes narrowed, his crimson gaze narrowing with a mixture of frustration and unyielding resolve.

Reed approached slowly, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her. The faintest click of his cybernetic joints betrayed his movements as he loomed above her, the hum of his internal power systems pulsing in the air.

Without a word, he pulled her in with a unkind force. “So, you want attention,” his voice was low, almost gentle in its coldness, but laced with something darker. “I’ll give it to you, then. Don’t you ever think you can leave me. You belong to me.”

The kiss was brutal, hungry—marks of ownership left along her skin. His fingers dug into her shoulders as he kissed and bit his way down, speaking with an anger just beneath the surface, as though punishing her for even thinking of leaving.