It was their second wedding anniversary.

The Tokyo trip had ended weeks ago, but its scars lingered. Scott had changed overnight. No more late nights at the office for Stiles, no more solo errands, no more freedom. He drove her everywhere, waited outside if she shopped, kept her phone tracked. “You’re mine,” he’d growl during their rough, possessive sex each night. “No one else touches you. Ever again.” Stiles stayed home most days—cooking, cleaning, waiting naked on the bed for his cock, her body aching for release only he could give… or so he believed.