Chapter 1 PROLOGUE – A GLIMPSE OF THEIR PAST WOUNDS AND EMOTIONAL WALLS

The rain pelted the black SUV's tinted windows in unrelenting torrents, a continuous rhythm. The city outside dissolved into neon streaks and shadows, reflecting the harsh, merciless world he had created for himself. Alexander Steele sat still in the backseat, his face's angular lines illuminated by the light from his phone. The message remained unsent while his fingers lingered over the screen.

"I'm proud of you, Dad."

The remarks seemed strange, even hollow, as though they were coming from a guy he had lost sight of. As he had done a dozen times before, he erased them. Pride? To a man who had come to understand that silence was a sign of strength, what was that? To a man forged in the merciless furnace of abandonment and treachery? No, Alexander Steele avoided using sentimental language. If his heart was still there, it was a fortress, impenetrable, protected by walls he had long since ceased to doubt. He was fashioned by the walls.

It was the ninth anniversary of his father's passing tonight. A man who had insisted on complete perfection but never on love. He left behind wealth, influence, and an uncompromising ideal that Alexander both despised and aspired to. It was in his blood, cold steel.

However, for some reason, the silence felt more oppressive and a little stifling tonight.

Another storm was brewing across the Atlantic.

The smell of rain mixed with gun oil and wet ground as Captain Isabella "Ice" Reyes stood at the edge of the tarmac of the military base. Her thoughts were elsewhere, transported back to a long-forgotten memory, even as the noise of distant helicopters reverberated across the bleak sky. One that now characterized her existence.

It was twelve years ago. The funeral.

The folded flag was pushed into her hands, which were shaking.

Her mom's tears.

"You have to be strong now, Bella."

So she had been. Her armor was strength. She was the strongest soldier in her unit because of her cold accuracy, discipline, and control. The woman who never felt or flinched. Never let anyone know there were cracks beneath the ice, much less go close enough to notice them.

But occasionally, in the quiet between missions, late at night, she sensed it-the pain. The defeat. The crushing burden of being completely alone and indestructible.

It was one of those evenings tonight.

In her locker was an unopened letter. from her father, with whom she had not communicated for years. The man who had left long before she had mastered the art of deadly grace with a weapon. He had made an effort to connect, to clarify. He had gone unnoticed.

Forgiveness was a sign of weakness. And she wasn't feeble at all.

Two spirits. Two steel fortresses.

Despite being in different worlds, they are united by the same unwavering coldness.

Neither was aware that fate was already slipping between their armor's cracks.

Sparks would fly when they collided, and neither could predict when it would happen.

However, steel is difficult to bend once it has been forged.

And affection? The last thing either of them was ready to fight over was love.