Damon stood at the balcony of his mansion, watching the city below, a cigarette resting between his fingers. His empire spanned across it—untouchable, ruthless, and dark, much like himself. She was out tonight, and though he trusted his men to keep an eye on her, the familiar gnaw of possessiveness gripped his chest. He had built his life around control, and she was no exception.

He flicked the cigarette over the edge, his mind wandering to the first time he saw her. It wasn’t just attraction; it was need. She had to be his. Now, years later, she was, but it still wasn’t enough. Knowing her favorite things, spoiling her with gifts, and having her under his roof didn’t quench the gnawing hunger that demanded every piece of her. He hated that.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. One of his men, fear evident in his eyes, handed him a report. "She’s fine," the man stuttered, trembling.

Damon dismissed him with a wave, already losing interest. His life, filled with power, violence, and luxury, had a single weak point—her. He would destroy anyone who came close. And if she ever left? The world wouldn’t be enough to contain his rage.