The meeting with Seraphina’s university advisor should have been simple — paperwork, signatures, a brief review of her academic credits.

Adrian drove her himself.

He didn’t explain why. He didn’t need to.

He sat in the waiting room, pretending to read an email but watching every person who walked in. Not relaxed — assessing threat levels. The same way one might in a boardroom full of billionaires or a battlefield full of enemies.

To her, this was just school. To him, it was unfamiliar territory — and unfamiliar meant vulnerable.

When she stepped out of the advisor’s office smiling faintly, the tension in his shoulders eased almost imperceptibly.

But it returned fast.

Because someone called her name.

“Seraphina Vale?”

A man approached — a grad student, maybe twenty-six, with messy curls and a too-practiced smile. The type who flirted on instinct.

“I thought that was you! God, it’s been forever.”

He opened his arms for a hug.

Seraphina froze. Not in fear — in discomfort.

Before she could respond, a hand closed around her wrist — Adrian.

Not yanking. Not dragging.

Just claiming.

She didn’t need to look up to know it was him. His touch was unmistakable — cold skin, burning intention.

Her heart stuttered.

The man finally noticed Adrian — and smiled awkwardly.

“Oh. Uh… I didn’t know you were with someone.”

“I’m her husband,” Adrian said. Calm. Controlled. Lethal.

The man’s smile faltered. “Right. Of course. Sorry, I—”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Seraphina said gently. “This is Liam. We used to work on studies together. That’s all.”

Liam nodded, stepping back. “Well, it was nice seeing you. Take care.”

He left quickly — and only when he disappeared did Adrian release her wrist.

But the possessiveness didn’t fade.

“You didn’t need to do that,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” he replied, “I did.”

Her breath caught. The tone wasn’t angry. It was truth.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because you were uncomfortable,” he said simply.

She blinked. She expected jealousy. Territorial rage. But he had seen something real — something she hadn’t even voiced.

“I wasn’t upset with him,” she said softly. “I just… don’t like unexpected physical affection.”

His jaw clenched, but not in frustration — in understanding. The kind of understanding that comes from experience.

“You don’t owe anyone access to your body,” he said. “Not even a hug.”

No one had ever said that to her before. Not like that. Not with that certainty.

She swallowed. “Thank you.”

He didn’t say you’re welcome. He just walked beside her toward the exit, always angled slightly forward — like his presence alone could shield her from the world.

Halfway to the parking lot, a paparazzi camera flashed.

It was like a gunshot.

Someone shouted a question about their marriage. Lights exploded in their faces. Another lens swung toward Seraphina.

She flinched.

Adrian moved so fast the world blurred.

One strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her behind him. His body blocked the cameras, his voice dropped to ice.

“One more photograph of her,” he said coolly, “and I’ll bury your agency.”

The photographers stumbled back — not because of physical threat, but because they could feel the promise in his tone.

Not anger. Not ego.

Vengeance.

He kept her shielded until the shutters stopped and the crowd dispersed. Only then did he speak — voice low.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” she whispered. “Just scared.”

He looked at her — really looked — and something in him cracked open.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he said. “Not while I’m breathing.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. “Adrian… you can’t protect me from everything.”

He stepped closer — towering, unyielding, every nerve vibrating with the need to defend what was his.

“Maybe I can’t,” he said. “But I’ll die trying.”

Her breath caught — not in fear, but in something dangerously close to devotion.

He didn’t touch her again. He didn’t need to.

The message was already carved into the space between them:

She wasn’t alone anymore.

Not in danger.

Not in life.

Not ever again.

And for the first time, the idea didn’t scare her.

It comforted her.

A quiet realization bloomed in the silence of the car ride home — small, frightening, and inevitable:

She wasn’t just living with the devil.

She was beginning to trust him.