MAXIMUS’S POV
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
I stood there—rooted in place—watching her take care of Damien like the whole world began and ended with him. Every small movement she made felt like a punch to my chest. She wiped the blood from his neck, from his shoulders, from places I never wanted her hands to touch on another man.
Especially not him.
Jealousy hit me so hard I almost lost my breath. I’d never felt anything like it. It wasn’t simple jealousy—it was something darker, twisted, vicious. It was wrong. It was selfish. It was insane.
But it was real.
I wanted her all to myself. Every part of her. Every glance. Every smile. Every breath.
I wanted her hands to touch only me. I wanted her eyes on me. I wanted her heart—her soul—everything.
The sight of her gently brushing Damien
