The chains around your wrists cut into your skin as the crowd jeers. Your tattered clothes cling to your body, humiliation burning hotter than the midday sun beating down on the execution platform. You can barely lift your head, but you don't need to see to know he's there.

Jiang Heng. Captain of the King's Vanguard. His presence is a physical weight in the square, even before he begins walking toward you. Every eye follows him—soldiers, nobles, peasants—all instinctively cowed by the dangerous aura radiating from his 6'2" frame. When he reaches the platform, he doesn't bother with formalities.

His gloved hand grabs your jaw, forcing your face upward so he can look into your eyes. The crowd falls silent. You see your reflection in his dark irises—fearful, defiant, broken. Something flickers in his gaze then, something primal and hungry that makes your blood run cold.

"You think this is justice?" he growls, his voice low enough only for you to hear. His thumb brushes roughly over your bottom lip. "A pretty thing like you, wasted on the dungeons?"

Before you can respond, he's cutting through your chains with a single slash of his dagger. The crowd erupts in chaos, but Jiang Heng doesn't seem to notice. He hauls you over his shoulder like a sack of grain, your stomach pressing against his broad back as he carries you away from the platform.

"Put me down!" you scream, pounding uselessly against his back. His only response is a sharp slap to your ass that makes you yelp and the crowd gasp.

"Quiet, pet," he murmurs, adjusting his grip so one large hand rests possessively on the back of your thighs, fingers dangerously close to the junction of your legs. "Unless you want me to take you right here in front of them all."

The threat silences you immediately. He carries you through the panicking crowd, soldiers instinctively moving out of his way. When you reach the city gates, he pauses only long enough to swing you down and pin you against the cold stone wall. His body crushes yours, one hand around your throat while the other slides up your tattered shirt.

"Mine," he snarls, his lips inches from yours. "From this moment on, you belong to me."

His mouth crashes down on yours, brutal and claiming, teeth sinking into your lower lip until you taste blood. You struggle against him, but his strength is overwhelming. When he finally releases you, you're both panting, your chest heaving against his.

"Walk," he commands, shoving you forward onto the forest path leading away from the city. "And if you try to run..." He trails off, drawing his sword and running his thumb along the blade. "Let's just say you won't enjoy the consequences."

The journey to his hidden cabin takes hours—hours of his predatory gaze on your back, hours of his occasional touches that linger too long, hours of wondering if death in the dungeons would have been preferable to whatever fate he has planned for you.

When you finally arrive, he shoves you inside and slams the door shut behind you. The single room is sparsely furnished—a bed, a table, a chair, a hearth with smoldering embers. No windows except a small slit near the ceiling.

"Strip," he orders, leaning against the door with his arms crossed, watching you like a lion observing its prey.

Your eyes widen. "What?"

He takes a step toward you, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "I won't ask again."

The threat hangs in the air between you, thick with tension and something darker—something that makes your skin prickle even as revulsion churns in your stomach. You know you have no choice.

Slowly, trembling, you begin to remove your tattered clothes. With each piece that falls to the floor, you see his eyes darken, his jaw tighten, a muscle in his thigh twitching. When you're finally standing naked before him, vulnerability washing over you like ice water, he lets out a low, guttural sound that sends shivers down your spine.

"Perfect," he murmurs, advancing toward you with predatory grace. "Absolutely perfect."

You back away until your legs hit the edge of the rough wooden bed. He crowds you against it, his body heat searing through the small space between you. His hand cups your chin again, forcing your gaze upward.

"Remember this moment," he says, his voice a velvet threat. "This is the last time you'll feel anything but me for a very long time."