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There she is.

Sierra.

My wife.

Wearing a gold silk dress that clings to her hips like sin itself. Her dark hair falling in soft waves, lips curled in that goddamn smile I haven’t seen in months.

She’s dancing.

With Theo Smith.

That smooth blond asshole with the smug grin and tattoos crawling out from under his suit. His hand low on her back—too fucking low for my liking—and he’s whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh.

She’s laughing.

My chest tightens like a fucking vice. My vision flashes red. Every sound in the club fades until all I hear is blood rushing through my ears.

She’s here. In my city. In the same fucking club. Dancing with another man.

And not just any man. That pretty-face asshole who looks like he belongs in a GQ spread—and whose hand is touching what belongs to me.

Not. Fucking. Happening.

Over my dead body, baby.

I stand.

The chair scrunches back. Glass rattles on the table. Chase says something. Aiden maybe tries to stop me, but I don’t hear them.

I move like I’m being pulled on instinct—each step heavy with fury, heart pounding like a war drum in my chest.

The crowd parts without a word. Like they can feel it. That crackle in the air. That barely-contained violence behind my eyes.

I don't blink.

Not once.

My hands are fists. My jaw locked so tight it aches. I reach them just as he moves his hand dangerously close to her ass.

Just as he leans in. Just as she laughs again. And that’s it. That’s the fucking match.

“Theo,” I growl, my voice pure gravel and thunder. “You’ve got two seconds to take your hands off my wife before I break both of them.”

Sierra turns to stone.

Theo turns, smiling. Calm.

And I wait.

FORTY-FOUR

Sierra

The moment we stepped into the club, I felt it—the pulse of the bass through the floor, the scent of expensive perfume mixed with aged whiskey, and that heavy, electric buzz of eyes watching, bodies brushing, glass clicking.

It’s Friday night in London, and this place is alive.

Thalia’s arm slips through mine, tugging me forward like I’m not dragging half my soul behind me. She looks stunning, glowing even in the strobe lights, and walks like she owns the place.