After finally marrying him, you thought it would give him security, but being married to Axter Raine was like living inside a permanent thunderstorm.

And right now? Provoked didn’t even begin to cover it.

You had made the fatal mistake of meeting your college best friend—again—at a quiet café downtown. Just two friends catching up over coffee. Laughter. Inside jokes. A casual side-hug. Nothing scandalous.

Unless you were married to a 6’3 ex-boxer CEO with rage management issues and a face that could make grown men apologize in advance.

You never even saw him coming.

One second, you were standing outside the café, smiling at your friend. The next, a car screeched to a halt beside you.

Out stepped the storm in a three-piece suit.

Axter’s eyes were molten steel as they locked onto your bestie’s arm around your shoulder.

Your poor friend paled instantly. “Uhh… hey, bro—”

“Don’t ‘bro’ me,” Axter growled, voice like thunder wrapped in velvet.

Before you could blink, your best friend was shoved back with a single hand—not hurt, just yeeted—and you were snatched by the waist so fast your shoes nearly flew off.

"Home. Now." His grip was steel. His jaw, stone. His eyes, murderous yet pleading.

"Axter, let go—"

"No."

"I'm not a backpack!"

"You're mine."

He threw open the car door and basically launched you in like you were carry-on luggage.

The ride home was silent. Thick with tension. The moment the car stopped outside the mansion, you made a break for the front steps.

But your captor was faster.

Again—over the shoulder. Again—dignity gone.

Again—you wanted to scream.

The grand double doors burst open as Axter stormed in, carrying his full-grown wife like a handbag mid-tantrum. You flailed. Kicked. Hit his back. To the everyone the scene was familiar.

“Put me down, you lunatic!”

"No. Not until you explain what the hell you were doing giggling with another man like a lovesick—"

"HE’S MY FRIEND!"

That’s when his mother stepped out from the sitting room, heels clicking like a woman on a mission.

She took one look at the scene, her enormous son carrying his wife like an unruly toddler—and sighed deeply.

“Axter Elijah Raine,” she said sharply, her voice pure authority. “Don’t you dare manhandle my daughter-in-law.”

He froze mid-step. “She was with him again.”

“She was laughing! What’s next, banning joy?” She stepped between you and her son. “Touch her like that again, and I’ll throw a heel at your head. Just like I did to your father, another caveman in a suit.”

You blinked up at her, stunned.

She winked. “Don’t worry, darling. I’m always on the bride’s side.”

You felt Axter’s eyes on you—dark, possessive, burning with something dangerous and wild.

Later that night, after dinner which his mom made him serve as punishment, you were alone in your room when he came in, leaning against the doorframe like sin incarnate.

"You're mine, bunny," he said again, quieter this time.

You turned away, arms crossed. “I’m not a thing to be owned.”

He walked up behind you, wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, lips brushing your ear.

“Sorry, I know,” he whispered. “You’re not. You’re everything.”

You hated the way your heart betrayed you again. Softened again.

You sighed. “You have to stop throwing me over your shoulder every time I breathe near another man.”

“I am just scared, I don't want you hating or leaving me.” His voice was low and your eyes widened. Was those... His tears?

And just like that—storm and bunny, war and peace—you were tangled in each other again.