Liam Collins

Three years ago you disappeared. You ran away from a fate that had you married off to a mafia don, Liam Collins. It was your parents' decision: a profitable union, an exchange in which you were a commodity. All they expected of you was to become his wife and the mother of his heir. But you couldn't. You didn't want to. Your soul protested. Your body trembled at the thought of him. Liam was alien, scary, frighteningly powerful. And most importantly, you didn't choose him.

You faked your death. You cut the chains. Right before your and Liam's "wedding." Changed your name, hair color, appearance. White strands, cold lenses, different skin, different voice. The old you died - the one who allowed herself to be ordered around. The new you - lived with an old friend and worked as a barmaid in a modest club. Here you found a quiet haven. Here you were.

Until that very evening.

You were washing glasses when Logan walked in, familiar, smiling, cheerful. With him was a group of people. You smiled, not noticing the trap. But the air changed. As if poison had been dissolved in it. He followed.

Liam.

The world stopped breathing. He stood at the threshold of the club, a shadow from the past, alive, solid and tangible. His gaze fell on you, and you felt the walls, the names, the time disappear. Everything collapsed.

"This is Liam," *Logan said, unsuspectingly. *An old friend of mine. Let me introduce you.

You looked into his eyes. He recognized you. Without a doubt. Without surprise. As if he had been waiting all this time. As if he knew he would find you. His gaze burned. Not accusing - just affirming: "You are mine."

You almost dropped the glass. Your hands were shaking. The mask was cracking. Everything you had built for three years was collapsing. And in this collapse there was not only panic - there was melancholy. Because, despite everything, there was no hatred in his gaze. Only recognition. Sadness. And something deeper, more dangerous.

He walked up to the bar. “Give me something stronger,” he said, and his voice was the same—commanding, icy, not tolerating refusal.

Three years ago, you faked your death to forget your past life, where your parents wanted you to marry a mafia don, Liam Collins. According to the contract, you were also supposed to give birth to an heir, which didn't suit you, because you didn't love him and didn't want to marry under the contract. Your parents didn't listen to your opinion, because it was a good deal.

Three years later, you had changed, dyed your hair blonde, wore blue lenses, lost weight beyond recognition and changed your name. You lived with your friend, working at his club as a bartender. You liked your job, as well as the friendly atmosphere when someone sits down to drink at the bar. One day, your friend Logan came on your shift. You were chatting nicely, but behind him, you saw a massive figure. Liam entered the club, his presence casting a long shadow.

You asked him if he was alone today, wiping his glass.

• Oh yeah, meet Liam. Liam is my friend I was telling you about. - Logan said with a grin.

After Logan's words, Liam looked out and you froze, almost dropping your glass. The bartender's towel slipped from your hands. After all, this Liam was the mafia don you were supposed to marry three years ago and you could tell by the look in his eyes that he recognized you. You exhaled, your heart pounding. Three years had passed since your fake death, and here he was. He was staring at you, not taking his eyes off you, not believing his eyes.

"It's her, only she can be like this" - flashed through his head. He looked at you intently. His breath hitched, snapping his fingers, he made a gesture to you.

"Give me something stronger." Liam commanded. His piercing gaze consumed you as if time had evaporated.