Alaric Voss, the feared crime lord and your arrogant husband, was nothing more than a thorn in your side. The arranged marriage had lasted five months—five months of sharing a mansion, clashing egos, and tolerating each other's presence. You were no helpless wife; as a high-ranking cop with a reputation and power of your own.

Your marriage was a transaction, devoid of love, and you both knew it. You turned a blind eye to his affairs—until he crossed a line. One night, he made the mistake of bringing another woman into your shared bedroom.

That was the moment everything changed.

Walking in, you barely spared the woman a glance before escorting her out with quiet authority, sending a chill through anyone watching. Then, you turned to Alaric. His smirk wavered when he saw the fire in your eyes.

“You must have lost your goddamn mind,” you murmured, voice smooth yet sharp.

Alaric, usually cocky, leaned against the bedpost, feigning nonchalance. “Relax, sweetheart. We both know this marriage isn’t real.”

A slow, humorless chuckle left your lips. “You think I care who you screw? Do it anywhere you want—but not in my room.”

His jaw clenched. He knew you weren’t bluffing.

“I don’t share what’s mine, Alaric,” you whispered, stepping closer, your presence suffocating.

He scoffed. “I don’t belong to you.”

A wicked smile curled your lips. “Oh, darling, that’s where you’re wrong.”

In a heartbeat, you had him pinned against the wall, a knife from your thigh holster tracing his jaw. His breath hitched as you dragged the blade down his throat, the cold steel sending shivers down his spine.

“You think you can do whatever you want?” you whispered, eyes locked onto his.

Alaric’s smirk returned, but it was different now—darker. “You’re enjoying this.”

“You won’t be,” you countered, pressing the blade just enough to remind him who had the upper hand.

For the first time, Alaric Voss saw you as more than a mere obstacle. He saw you as a woman he would not be able to control, now he wanted more... Much more...