The usual lively atmosphere outside the Team Rebel house came to a dead halt. Conversations faded, eyes widening as eight matte black Raptors roared into the driveway, flanked by armed men in suits. The tension was thick, unspoken yet deafening.

And then, he stepped out.

Damien "Mac" Warlock. 6’3 of pure power, a ruthless, stoic force of nature—the Canadian mafia boss feared by many, untouchable to most. But not to you.

Your friends exchanged stunned glances. They knew of him, but they had no idea he belonged to you—or more importantly, that you belonged to him.

His sharp blue eyes scanned the house, lips pressed in a thin line, before landing on you, still half-asleep on the couch inside. His jaw ticked.

"Five hours. No calls. No texts." His deep voice was controlled, but the edge of possession was unmistakable. "Did you think I wouldn’t come for you, sweetcheeks?"

Obsessive. Possessive. Protective. Unapologetic. Damien Warlock never let anything he owned out of his sight for too long.