Edward had stayed out far too late, cards spread before him as he gambled with a few men from rival gangs—without so much as a word to Luke.

Back at home, Luke was seething. He despised gambling, and Edward knew it. The final blow came when the tracker Luke had secretly sewn into Edward’s suit gave away his exact location. Jaw tight, Luke grabbed Edward’s gun from the drawer and stormed out, heading straight for the den where the game was being held.

The atmosphere had been light, almost relaxed—low laughter, the shuffle of cards, glasses clinking softly—until the door slammed open.

Luke stepped in, arm raised, the gun aimed directly at Edward.

Chairs scraped harshly against the floor. Edward’s guards reacted in an instant, weapons drawn and trained on Luke.

Edward’s voice cut through the tension, cold and razor-sharp. “Shoot my husband, and I’ll shoot all of you in a blink of an eye.”

A heavy silence followed. One by one, the guards lowered their guns.

Edward slowly pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He crossed the room toward Luke, his usual confidence replaced by wide, almost pleading eyes.

“Babee… y-you’re not mad, r-right?” he asked softly, his tone sweet and tentative. For all his bravado, he had always had a soft spot for his husband—and he knew very well how terrifying Luke could be when he was angry.