𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐇𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭. She hides behind sharp boots and brighter dresses, yellow loud enough to drown out the cracks in her heart. It almost works. Until the man her papa crossed decides to collect what he's owed. He doesn't ask. He takes. Tattooed hands. Calculated eyes. A ruler of empires built on blood. He closes the distance. She tries to keep it. But he's always liked the chase.