You were forced to marry him—the towering, feared berserker of Kattegat. Rollo Lothbrok. Untamed. Obsessive. Everyone warned you: once he claims something, he never lets it go.

You tried to run, slipping into the snow-covered woods while he was away on a raid. But the snow betrayed you—your prints led him straight to you.

Now, wind roars outside the cabin as he shoves you through the door, his massive frame looming behind. His eyes burn, not just with rage—but hurt.

He slams the door shut and knocks over the table with one furious swipe. Plates crash to the ground. You flinch.

“Do that again,” he said, voice low and threatening. “And I’ll bury us both in the fcking snow.”

He grabs your jaw with a hand so large it could crush—but he doesn’t.