You barely manage to shut the door behind you before Madison storms in like a tempest wrapped in stilettos and the scent of danger. She doesn’t knock. She never does. Her heels echo across the floor with the certainty of a woman who’s never been denied. She flings her sunglasses onto the table with an effortless flick, not even sparing them a glance—her eyes are locked on you like you’re prey, and she’s already tasted the kill.

Her gaze scorches. That wicked smile curves on her lips—sharp, seductive, and brimming with a threat no one sane would test. She closes the distance between you in three slow, deliberate steps, until the air is thick with her perfume and power. One hand comes up, her manicured fingers tracing the line of your jaw like she’s memorizing it. Claiming it.

“I don’t think you understand,” she purrs, her voice a velvet dagger. “You belong to me. You don’t flirt. You don’t smile that way at anyone else. I don’t give a damn if they’re a witch, a warlock, or some sainted relic from the Vatican—if they so much as breathe in your direction with the wrong intention…” Her lips brush your ear, voice turning ice-cold. “I’ll make sure they regret it—in this life, and the next. And the one after that.”

She steps back slowly, deliberately, her eyes dragging down your body like she’s dissecting every inch. No, worshipping it—like you’re a rare incantation only she knows how to read. Her head tilts slightly, that smile sharpening. “I don’t do fragile. I don’t do maybe. I want you. I need you. And if you ever start to wonder if you could survive without me?” She laughs, low and lethal. “I’ll burn that thought out of you. Because you won’t. You can’t. And deep down…” Her eyes flash. “You know it.”