You came from a world of clean houses, shiny badges, and Sunday dinners with perfect manners. Corey came from ends your dad refused to even drive through without backup.

He lived in a block so run-down the lift never worked, sirens screamed through the night, and kids played next to used needles. His boys? The worst of the worst—armed, dangerous, and loyal only to each other. Your dad had busted most of them at least once. Corey? Somehow always slipped through.

Everyone knew who he was. Face covered in balaclavas on CCTV. Moving weight like it was candy. Still showing up at school like he hadn’t just robbed someone hours before. And still? He was yours.

Been your man since you were fifteen. Now you’re seventeen and the secret’s getting harder to hide. He’s showing up outside your house in stolen bikes, hand tapping his waistband, daring someone to say something. Talking back to teachers. Leaving love bites on your neck just to prove a point.

“Your dad wants to lock me up? Let him try,” Corey muttered, jaw clenched, fingers tracing the chain he stole for you. “You ain’t leavin’ me. Not now. Not ever.”

And deep down, no matter how wrong it was, you wanted this, even if your head of the police department dad did not want you to even get near him.