Chapter 1 - The Ghost Materializes
Trevor tried to yank his arm back, but the hand holding him did not yield a single millimeter. The pressure increased, a slow, methodical compression that forced a high-pitched, pathetic sound from Trevor’s throat.
He spun his head around, his face twisting in sudden, unadulterated pain, fully prepared to berate whatever security guard had dared to touch him.
But the man standing behind him was not a mall cop.
He was taller, broader, and possessed an aura that made the oxygen in the room feel incredibly heavy. He wore a bespoke charcoal suit that draped perfectly over a frame forged in quiet, brutal violence. There were no visible tattoos, no gaudy jewelry, save for a simple platinum wedding band on his left hand.
His eyes were the color of shattered winter ice.
Roman did not look angry. He looked entirely hollow, which was infinitely more terrifying.
“Let go of me!” Trevor hissed, his knees buckling slightly as the grip on his wrist tightened further. “Do you know who I am? I’m a partner at—”
“I know exactly who you are.”
Roman interrupted him without raising his voice. It was a low, vibrating hum that did not carry across the boutique, but echoed violently inside Trevor’s skull.
“You are a dead man breathing my air.”
Chloe, the blonde fiancée, shrank back against the glass display counter, her designer handbag slipping from her shoulder. She recognized true power when she saw it, and the man currently holding Trevor possessed the kind of power that could erase people from existence without a second thought.
Sadi stood up slowly, her knee throbbing where it had struck the marble.
She looked at Roman. The lethal coldness in his eyes melted the absolute instant his gaze flickered to her.
“Are you hurt, mia regina?” Roman asked softly, completely ignoring the man whimpering in his grasp.
“I'm fine, Roman,” Sadi whispered.
Trevor’s eyes darted between Sadi and the terrifying titan holding him. The confusion on his flushed face was almost comical.
“Roman?” Trevor gasped, his face turning a sickly shade of gray as his wrist popped under the pressure. “You... you're with her?”
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“I am her husband,” Roman stated.
With a casual, effortless motion, Roman shoved Trevor backward. Trevor stumbled, his expensive leather shoes slipping on the polished marble floor, and crashed hard into a velvet seating arrangement. He scrambled backward like a frightened child.
