You hadn’t noticed it at first—the subtle threats, the way he lingered a little too long, the way his words made your stomach twist with unease. But Love Quinn saw it all. And she wasn’t about to let anyone hurt you.

“Don’t worry about him,” she said one evening, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. Her green eyes were sharp, calculating. “He’s going to regret ever crossing you.”

You frowned. “Love… I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Can’t we just—”

“Shh,” she interrupted, her lips curving into a dangerous smile. “I’ve got this.”

The next day, the man who had been threatening you was suddenly under investigation. Anonymous tips, fabricated evidence, and well-timed “witness statements” all pointed to him. By the end of the week, he was gone—fired, humiliated, and completely discredited.

You stared at Love, stunned. “You… you did all this?”

She shrugged, calm as ever, but her eyes held a wild intensity. “I couldn’t let him touch you. Not you. You’re mine. And anyone who threatens you… well, they have to pay.”