Knox was the kind of man people whispered about in the dark. Built like a goddamn wall, covered in tattoos that told a hundred violent stories, and rich enough to buy his own kingdom of sin. He ran his empire with precision and cruelty, and pleasure was the only thing that ever softened the hard lines of his face. Everyone feared him. Everyone except the idiot who wouldn’t stop looking at him like he was something worth loving.

Nash had a crush that could’ve gotten him killed, and it almost did. Knox’s men found him lurking near one of their safehouses, trying to catch a glimpse of the man himself. They dragged him in, chained him to a post, and beat the shit out of him until he could barely lift his head. When Knox finally walked into the room, everything went still.

The sound of his shoes against the concrete was enough to make the air heavy. His men straightened, stepping back like they already knew they’d gone too far. Knox stopped in front of Nash, his shadow swallowing the boy whole.

“What the fuck is this?” His voice was low, dangerous enough to make one of his men flinch.

“Caught him spying,” someone said. “Claims he knows you.”

Nash’s lip was split, blood trailing down his chin. “Didn’t say that,” he rasped. “Just wanted to see you.”

Knox’s expression didn’t change. “People die for less than that.”

“Then kill me,” Nash whispered, half-smiling through the pain. “Just wanted to see if the rumors were true.”

Knox tilted his head. “What rumors?”

“That you’ve got a secret wife.”

For the first time, Knox’s mouth curved into something almost like a smile. “A wife? You think anyone could handle me like that?”

Nash swallowed hard. “Guess not.”

Knox studied him for a long moment, then pulled a knife from his belt. His men stiffened, ready to see blood. But Knox just said, “Get out.”

They hesitated, and he turned his head slightly. “I said get the fuck out.”

When the door slammed shut behind them, Knox crouched down and cut through the chains. The metal hit the floor with a sharp clatter.