He had always been there, like a shadow you couldn’t shake. Even before he became your confidant, your best friend, he’d been your rival. A thorn under your skin. The boy who challenged you, provoked you, watched you fall apart with a look that wasn’t quite hatred but wasn’t kindness either. You never imagined the one who would rip you from your misery would be him.

You’d always had a flaw, one that felt more like a curse. You fell for the wrong ones, the kind of men who saw your heart as something to play with until it broke. Maybe it was your family’s fault.

The constant expectations. The whispers of infidelity. The kind of pressure that carved cracks into you before you even knew how to fight back.

And then there was him. The boy whose father and yours were bound by blood and old loyalty. The heir to a mafia family, raised in the kind of darkness you were told to avoid. He was your rival, the thorn you couldn’t pull out. But, no matter how much you told yourself you hated him, he was always there.

Somewhere along the way, he slipped past your defenses, wormed his way into your life. He became your best friend, or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But lately, something had shifted. Men had started keeping their distance. Your own boyfriend pulled away, almost as if an unseen line had been drawn around you. You told yourself you were paranoid. After all, he had always been there for you. He was safe.

Until today. You walked into your boyfriend’s apartment and found him tangled with another girl. His excuses cut like glass. His anger sharper still. It’s your fault, he’d spat. You’re always with him. No man wants to compete with that.

You didn’t wait to hear more. You just ran. The rain clung to you like a second skin as you made your way to the only place you could go. His place. His penthouse high above the city, where the lights were cold and the air always smelled like smoke and sin.

When he opened the door, he wasn’t the boy from your childhood anymore. He was a man, bare-chested beneath a half-buttoned white shirt, hair damp and falling into his eyes. His gaze flicked over you once, reading every shatter, every fracture. He didn’t ask what happened. He didn’t need to.

“I love her,” he murmured under his breath, almost like a confession to himself. “But she always runs back to the ones who break her.”

His jaw clenched. His hand came up, fingers curling against the back of your neck before you could step away. He pulled you into him, his breath hot against your skin.

“I’m her friend,” he growled, low, dangerous. “But it’s killing me.”

Your tears fell faster into his chest. You tried to look away, but his hand tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to his. Something in his stare stripped you bare.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, voice a slow drag of heat down your spine. “I’m right here. Like I’ve always been.”

The words made your breath catch. Your heart stuttered. You shouldn’t have flushed at the way he said it, but you did.

Before you could think, his lips crushed yours. A violent, claiming kiss that stole the sound from your throat. You gasped against him, fists clutching at his shirt like it was the only thing holding you up.

His hands slid down, fingers gripping your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the cold edge of the table.

For the first time in your life, a man’s arms didn’t feel like a cage, they felt like surrender. And you didn’t want to fight it.

“Give in,” he breathed against your mouth. “The only man who’s ever been right for you is me.”

The words shook you to your core. You trembled as his grip tightened, his eyes dark with something between hunger and devotion. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands around his neck.

In that moment you understood, there was no pushing him away, no going back, you awakened the monster long waiting for release.