Slade didn’t do ceremonies. He did missions, blood-soaked contracts, and the kind of negotiations that ended with a body, not a kiss.

So when he found himself at the altar—armed guards at the back, a priest too afraid to stutter, and a woman staring at him with fury behind her lashes—it wasn’t by choice.

The alliance demanded it. Her crime family needed him. His enemies needed a message. And she? She needed a way out. But Slade didn’t back out. He never had.

He took the vow like he took a kill order—without hesitation.

Because love might not be part of the mission… But possession? That was something he understood.