Haley’s hands trembled as she turned the knob, the weight of the grocery bags digging into her arms. As the door swung open, and the sight that met her nearly knocked the air from her lungs.

There he was.

Brute.

Her husband.

And sprawled across their living room couch, tangled in his arms, was a naked woman. Not the same one from last week. This one had raven-black hair, deep red lipstick smudged across her cheek, and a pair of long legs draped over Brute’s thighs as she let out a lazy, satisfied sigh.

Haley felt something inside her snap. She clenched the bags tighter before throwing them onto the floor, the impact sending fruits rolling in every direction.

The woman jumped, startled. Brute, on the other hand, barely turned his head, as if he’d already been expecting her.

“Really?” Haley’s voice shook with barely restrained fury. “Again?”

Brute exhaled and ran a hand through his disheveled dark hair, irritation flashing in his sharp green eyes. “You’re home early.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

The woman on his lap made a move to grab the discarded shirt on the couch, her gaze flickering between them. “Uh… maybe I should—”

“Yeah, maybe you should,” Haley snapped before turning back to Brute. “Get out.”

Brute sighed, stretching like he had all the time in the world, before pressing a lazy kiss to the woman’s bare shoulder. “You heard her, sweetheart. Get out.”

The woman hurriedly gathered her clothes, her heels clicking against the floor as she disappeared through the front door. The moment it shut, Haley’s composure cracked.

“I want a divorce.”

Brute scoffed, finally standing to his full height. He was tall, broad, and built like the bully and cheat that he was. His presence was suffocating, but Haley refused to back down.

“No.”

“No?” she repeated, blinking. “What the hell do you mean, no?”

Brute stepped toward her, his emerald eyes narrowing. “I mean, no, Haley. You’re not getting a divorce.”

She let out a hollow laugh, disbelief swirling in her chest. “You don’t get to decide that! I’m done with this, Brute. I’m done with you bringing your whores into my home, humiliating me, and expecting me to just sit back and take it.”

His jaw tensed. “That’s not how this works.”

“Oh? And how does it work?” she challenged, crossing her arms.

Brute took another step closer, forcing her to tilt her head to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, Haley. My wife. That doesn’t change because you’re throwing a tantrum.”

“A tantrum?” Her voice cracked, raw with frustration. “You’re unfaithful. You lie, cheat, and treat me like nothing more than a maid who cleans up after your mess. What exactly am I to you, Brute? A convenience? A trophy you can parade around while you screw whoever you want?”

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he said nothing.

“Tell me!” she demanded, shoving at his chest. “Tell me what I am to you!”

He caught her wrists, his grip firm but not bruising. “You’re my wife,” he said, his voice lower now, more controlled. “And that means something.”

“It means nothing to you,” she whispered, feeling her anger give way to something colder. Something like exhaustion. “If it did, you wouldn’t keep doing this.”

Brute stared at her for a long moment before sighing, releasing her hands. “I’ll make it up to you.”

She laughed again, but this time, there was no humor in it. “Make it up to me? How? Another diamond necklace? A fancy dinner where you pretend to care? I don’t want your apologies, Brute. I want out.”

His face darkened. “You’re not leaving me.”

“You can’t force me to stay.”

“Can’t I?” His tone was laced with warning now, a promise of consequences if she tried.

A chill ran down her spine, but she refused to let it show. “You don’t own me.”

Brute leaned in, his breath ghosting over her cheek. “Don’t I?”

She swallowed hard, her heart hammering in her chest. “Not anymore.”

Brute clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “You’re making a mistake, Haley.”

“No, the mistake was thinking you’d ever change.” She took a step back, creating space between them. “I’ll have the papers drawn up.”

He smirked, slow and knowing. “Go ahead.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You think this is funny?”

“No,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face before she could slap his hand away. “I think it’s cute that you believe I’ll ever sign them.”

Haley’s stomach twisted.

“You don’t have a choice,” she said, but the words felt empty now.

Brute let out a quiet chuckle. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. You’re mine. ‘Til death do us part.”

The weight of his words settled between them, heavy and suffocating. Haley’s hands trembled, but she clenched them into fists to hide it.

“You’ll regret this,” she whispered.

His smirk didn’t falter. “We’ll see.”

With that, he turned, walking past her like the conversation had never happened. Like she hadn’t just asked for a divorce. Like her pain meant nothing.

And maybe, to him, it didn’t. But she was done. Brute thought she belonged to him. He was wrong. She inwardly swore she would find a way out.

Even if it killed her!

The night air was crisp against Haley’s skin as she stood on the sidewalk, her arms wrapped around herself. She had needed to step out, just for a moment. Being in that house—his house—felt suffocating. No matter how big it was, how luxurious, how grand, it was nothing more than a gilded cage.

She had spent the last hour walking around the block, trying to calm her mind, trying to breathe. But no amount of fresh air could wash away the reality of what her life had become.

When she finally returned, stepping through the grand double doors, the stench of smoke and cheap perfume hit her like a slap to the face.

Her stomach turned.

The laughter came next. Sultry, feminine, familiar.

Haley’s fists clenched as she rounded the corner into the living room.

There he was. Brute.

Lounging on the leather couch, a cigar between his fingers, his emerald eyes dark with amusement. But it wasn’t just him.

Two half-naked women draped over him like he was some king in a den of sin. One was straddling his lap, her hands roaming over his chest, giggling at something he had just whispered in her ear. The other sat beside him, her fingers toying with his belt buckle.

They hadn’t even noticed her.

She took a slow breath, trying—failing—to keep her voice calm.

“Get them out.”

Brute’s gaze flicked up lazily, and a smirk curved his lips. “You’re back.”

Haley didn’t move. “Get. Them. Out.”

The woman on his lap finally turned her head, raising a brow as she looked Haley up and down. Then, with a smirk, she ran her nails down Brute’s chest. “Who’s this?”

Brute chuckled. “My wife.”

The second woman gasped, eyes wide in mock surprise. “No way. I thought you said you weren’t married.”

Haley’s blood boiled. She stepped forward and grabbed the whiskey glass from the table, hurling it against the wall. The loud shatter echoed through the room, making the two women jump.

“Get out.”

The one in Brute’s lap huffed, rolling her eyes. “Relax, sweetheart. It’s just a bit of fun.”

“A bit of fun?” Haley’s voice was like ice. “Do I look like I’m having fun?”

Brute exhaled slowly, taking another puff of his cigar before finally speaking. “Sit down, Haley.”

She scoffed. “Are you out of your damn mind? You bring two whores into my house and have the audacity to tell me to sit down?”

Brute’s smirk deepened. “You’re upset.”

“I swear to God, Brute, if you don’t get them out of here—”

He cut her off, voice suddenly sharp. “Or what?”

Haley stiffened.

The room fell into an eerie silence, the tension crackling like a live wire.

Brute leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his cigar dangling between his fingers. “You’re not going anywhere, Haley. You never were.”

She lifted her chin. “You don’t own me.”

His smirk vanished. In the next second, he grabbed the wrist of the woman in his lap, forcing her off of him. She yelped as she stumbled to her feet.

“Leave!” he snapped.

The two women exchanged a glance before scrambling to grab their clothes. The second one barely had time to put on her heels before they both rushed out of the house. The door slammed behind them, leaving nothing but silence.

Haley’s breath came in quick bursts as Brute stood up, towering over her.

“What do you want from me?” she demanded. “You don’t love me, you don’t respect me, so what the hell do you get out of keeping me here?”

Brute’s expression remained unreadable. “Because you belong to me.”

“I’m not a possession, Brute!”

His gaze darkened, and his voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You think you have a choice?”

Haley’s pulse spiked. “I do. I’m leaving.”

She turned sharply, heading for the door, but his next words froze her in place.

“Your brother.”

Her stomach plummeted.

Slowly, she turned back around, eyes burning. “What did you say?”

Brute took another slow drag of his cigar, exhaling the smoke before speaking. “Do you even know where he is, Haley?”

Her throat tightened. “You wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t what?” He tilted his head. “Keep something so precious to you under my control?”

Her entire body went numb.

Brute smiled, taking a step toward her. “I saved you, didn’t I?” His voice was almost soothing, like he was speaking to a child. “You and your brother. You were just kids, lost on the streets, running from a stepfather who used you as his personal punching bags.”

Haley’s hands trembled. She hated that he was right.

He had been the one to pull them off the streets when she was eighteen. The one who fed them, clothed them, protected them. And then… he took control.

He had shipped her brother off, promising it was for work, for a better life. She had believed him. She had no reason not to.

Until she realized she had no idea where her brother actually was.

And Brute?

Brute never told her.

Never let her contact him.

And every time she asked, his answer was always the same:

“He’s safe. That’s all you need to know.”

Her nails dug into her palms. “Where is he?”

Brute’s smirk returned. “Now, now. That’s not how this works.”

Haley’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “You’re a monster.”

His hand reached out, cupping her jaw in a firm grip. Not painful. Not gentle. Just enough to make her listen.

“And yet, you wear my ring.”

She slapped his hand away. “I’m done.”

Brute chuckled, shaking his head. “No, Haley. You’re not.”

She turned again, making a beeline for the front door. But before she could reach it—

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The low warning sent a shiver down her spine.

Haley’s grip on the doorknob tightened. Slowly, she turned her head, meeting his gaze over her shoulder.

Brute took a step closer, his voice almost gentle. “Because if you do, you’ll never find him.”

Her breath hitched.

He smiled, knowing he had her. “You’re mine, Haley. ‘Til death do us part.”

The words seeped into her bones, like cold iron locking around her throat.

She had no choice.

Not unless she wanted to lose her brother forever.

Brute had trapped her.

And this time, she had no way out.

The next morning, Haley woke up to the sound of gunfire.

Her breath caught in her throat as she shot upright in bed, her heart pounding like a war drum.

Not again.

Another round of rapid shots shattered the morning silence, followed by the distant roar of engines.

She barely had time to process before a loud BOOM shook the house, rattling the windows.

Haley jumped out of bed, her bare feet hitting the cold marble. She reached for the silk robe hanging off the chair, tying it tightly around her waist as she rushed to the window.

The view from the bedroom overlooked the courtyard. Armed men—Brute’s men—were scattered around, weapons drawn, moving fast. Smoke curled in the air from the front gates. A black SUV had crashed through the barriers, its windshield cracked from gunfire.

Haley’s stomach twisted.

A raid?

Who would be stupid enough to attack Brute in his own home?

The bedroom door slammed open, and Brute strode in, shirtless, gun in one hand, phone in the other.

“Stay here.” His voice was sharp, clipped.

She stepped forward. “What the hell is going on?”

“Business.” He holstered his gun and grabbed a black shirt from the closet, yanking it on. “Lock the door. Don’t come out until I say.”

Haley scowled. “You can’t just—”

Brute was already walking out.

“I said stay here, Haley.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Haley stood there, breathing hard, her fists clenched. Stay here? Like hell.

She ran to the nightstand, grabbed the small knife she kept hidden, and slipped it into her robe pocket before heading toward the hallway.

The house was in chaos. Men rushed through the corridors, barking orders into earpieces.

Haley moved quickly, pressing herself against the wall as two of Brute’s guards stormed past. She had spent years in this house—she knew the blind spots, the places where security was light.

Her bare feet were silent against the cool marble as she slipped downstairs.

The front doors had been left wide open, letting in the cool morning air. She crept toward them, peering outside.

The courtyard was a battlefield.

Bodies on the ground. Blood smeared across the pavement.

Brute stood in the center of it all, barking orders to his men. His emerald eyes were dark, his presence commanding. Even outnumbered, he looked completely in control.

Then Haley saw him.

A man stood near the wrecked SUV, gun in hand, dressed in all black. A stranger.

But there was something about him. Something that made her breath catch.

Their eyes met.

For a split second, the world stopped.

Then—chaos.

Brute turned his head, following her gaze. His expression shifted.

The stranger moved fast. Too fast. Before Brute’s men could react, he had already raised his gun—

BANG.

A guard dropped.

BANG. BANG.

Another man went down.

Haley’s pulse skyrocketed. The man was fighting his way through the courtyard like a ghost, dodging bullets, taking down Brute’s men with terrifying precision.

Brute cursed, pulling his own gun and aiming—

“No!” Haley yelled, lunging forward without thinking.

Brute’s shot missed.

The stranger turned, his gaze locking onto hers again.

Then, before anyone could stop him—

He ran straight toward her.

Haley’s breath stuck in her throat as the stranger ran straight toward her.

She wanted to move, to run, but her feet felt glued to the ground.

Brute’s men were shouting, guns firing, but the stranger was too fast. Too precise. He weaved through the bullets like a ghost, his movements were swift and deadly.

Then—he was right in front of her.

Haley barely had time to gasp before a strong arm wrapped around her waist.

“Let go of me!” she screamed, struggling against his grip.

The stranger’s other hand came up—a gun pressed against her temple.

Everything froze.

Brute’s men stopped firing.

Brute himself went rigid, his emerald-green eyes burning with fury. His hand clenched around his gun, but he didn’t fire.

“Put it down.” The stranger’s voice was deep, commanding. “Unless you want her dead.”

Brute’s jaw tightened. “You don’t know who you’re messing with.”

A dark chuckle rumbled from the man’s chest. “Oh, I know exactly who I’m messing with, Brute.”

Haley’s pulse pounded.

Who the hell was this man? And why did he sound like he had a personal vendetta?

Brute took a slow step forward, gun still raised. “You won’t kill her.”

The stranger’s grip on Haley tightened. She could feel the hard press of muscle against her back, the steady rhythm of his breath.

“Try me.”

Silence.

Brute’s eyes darkened, but he didn’t shoot.

The stranger took advantage of the moment. With one swift motion, he started dragging Haley backward toward the SUV.

“Brute!” she screamed, kicking against her captor’s hold.

Brute took another step forward, rage radiating off him in waves. “If you take her, I’ll hunt you down and skin you alive.”

The stranger just smirked. “I’m counting on it.”

Then—the world tilted.

Before Haley could react, the man threw her inside the SUV.

She landed hard on the leather seat, her breath knocked out of her lungs.

The door slammed shut and the engine roared to life.

Outside, Brute shouted something, but gunfire exploded again, drowning out his words.

The SUV sped off, tires screeching.

Haley gasped, struggling to sit up, her hands flying to the door handle.

Locked.

She turned, ready to fight—And found herself staring into cold, gray eyes.

The stranger sat across from her, legs spread, gun resting casually in his lap.

His expression was unreadable.

“You’re coming with me.” he declared.