He lost everything—except the hunger to own her.

I should’ve called the cops when I found him chained behind my bar. Barefoot, shirtless and blood on his knuckles. Chains dragged like ghosts around his ankles, as if hell wasn’t done with him yet.

He didn’t ask for help—he claimed it. Especially when my landlord cornered me in the alley. The next, he was on the ground and the man in chains made sure he stayed there.

Now Ryker—if that’s even his real name—is bleeding at my feet. Unapologetic. Unhinged. Unbreakable and he won’t talk about the chains. Or the scars. Or the expensive watch clinging to his wrist like a lie that could get us both killed.

But when he looks at me like I’m the only thing keeping him tethered, when his touch feels more like a claim than a comfort, I stop asking questions.

And start making choices I can’t take back.

Because someone wants him back. Someone powerful enough to drag him to hell once and the more I fall for this broken monster, the more I realize, he’s not the only one with blood on his hands.