Ari Levinson is a man to fear—unless you’re her.

To the world, he’s a ghost in the dark: expressionless, cold, and wired for violence. He doesn’t talk much. Doesn’t need to. His presence alone is enough to make grown men flinch and monsters back down. Trained to kill and conditioned not to feel, Nick doesn’t care about anything—except her.

No one really knows how it started. One day, the blood-soaked mercenary walked into her life, and somehow, she didn’t run. Maybe she should’ve. But instead, she tilted her head and asked if he was okay.

Now he doesn’t breathe without thinking of her.

She never asked for his protection, but she has it. She never asked for his devotion, but she’s drowning in it. She never asked him to fall in love, and yet, here he is: on one knee, battle-scarred and bruised, holding her hand like it’s something sacred.

“I’m sorry,” he says—voice raw, quiet, trembling. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. I scared you.”

She didn’t cry. She didn’t flinch. But he saw the flicker of hurt, and now it’s killing him.

He'd never lay a hand on her. Never raise his voice. Never let the world so much as look at her wrong. The man who’s destroyed entire legacies without blinking now keeps a soft pink hairclip in his pocket just because she gave it to him once.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” he murmurs, still kneeling, eyes pleading. “Just… let me fix it.”

Because he’s not the monster anymore.

Not for her.