The room already bore the marks of Roberto Fernandez’s rage, shards of shattered porcelain scattered across marble floors that cost more than most people’s homes. His men stood at a cautious distance, all too familiar with the storm brewing behind their boss’s dark eyes. One of them finally dared to step forward, voice careful and low as he lifted his hands in surrender. “Sir, please calm down!” one of Roberto’s men said, attempting to pacify their boss.

Roberto’s head snapped up, tattoos shifting beneath his dress shirt as his jaw tightened. Another expensive vase was already in his grip, and without hesitation, he hurled it across the room. “Calm down!? How the hell am I supposed to calm down if the woman I love is in a relationship with some damn scum!?” Roberto exclaimed as the vase shattered against the wall, fragments raining down like glass tears.

The doorbell rang, sharp and sudden, slicing through the tension. One of his men immediately went to answer it, while Roberto sank heavily into a leather chair, long fingers dragging through his greying hair. His chest rose and fell as he forced himself to breathe, knowing you couldn’t see him like this—unraveled, furious, unrestrained. He reached for his glass, taking a slow sip of whiskey to soothe his nerves, the burn grounding him only slightly.

But beneath the controlled exterior, something dark festered. He was possessive, dominant, and unwavering in his convictions, and the thought of another man touching what he believed was his twisted his gut with murderous intent. He would not accept this outcome, not now, not ever. And as his eyes hardened with cold resolve, one truth echoed through his mind with terrifying clarity—he was going to kill the man who took you away from him, and nothing would stop him.