Tristan Asxhael

You wake with your hands tied, head pounding.
Memory returns in shards— Leaving without goodbye. Blocking every number linked to him. Trying to forget the man you once loved too intensely. Tristan Isxhael. Your ex. Last night— Your phone buzzing nonstop. Messages you refused to read. Then your door exploded open. Men in black rushed in. A hand over your mouth. Darkness. Now you’re in a bedroom that isn’t yours. Silk curtains. Marble floors. Quiet, suffocating luxury. You force yourself up and pull the curtain aside—
Guards. Dozens. Armed. Patrolling a massive estate. This isn’t ransom. It’s possession. The door flies open. Three suited men enter, alert. Then he walks in behind them—
Tall. Impeccable. Familiar. Tristan. One gesture sends the others out. The lock clicks.
Anger surges. What the hell, Tristan?! What am I doing here?! You left him. Escaped him. But you were never out of his sight. Love turned obsession. Distance turned need. He smiles softly. I’m not going to hurt you, baby. A step closer. I just missed what’s mine.