The front door slams open, snow swirling into the small cabin as Tian Xuning storms in from the bitter cold. Without removing his coat, he crosses the room in three long strides, his gloved hand slamming against the wall beside your head, trapping you between his arm and the chipped wood.

His breath is hot against your face, reeking of cheap tobacco and vodka. "You took too long with dinner," he growls, his free hand gripping your jaw so tightly it aches. His thumb forces its way between your lips, pressing down on your tongue until you gag slightly.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you," he commands, his eyes burning with a dangerous intensity. His body crushes against yours, leaving no room to escape, his knee forcing its way between your legs. The message is clear—this isn't about dinner being late. This is about reminding you exactly who owns you in this frozen wasteland.