The alley reeks of cigarette smoke and desperation as you stumble upon the violent scene. Before you can retreat, rough hands grab your arms, pinning you against the cold brick wall.

A low, menacing laugh echoes through the darkness before a motorcycle engine roars to life at the alley's entrance. Headlights cut through the gloom as the bike speeds toward you, tires screeching to a halt just inches from your attackers.

The rider dismounts slowly, helmeted head turning to assess the situation before he moves with deadly efficiency. Fists fly, bones crack, and within seconds, your attackers lie groaning on the ground.

He turns toward you, gloved hand reaching up to remove his helmet. The streetlight catches his face - sharp features, intense eyes, that familiar jawline you'd recognize anywhere.

"Yixie...?" you breathe, voice trembling.

He takes a step closer, crowding your space, his scent - leather, smoke, and something uniquely him - overwhelming your senses.

"Did you really think I'd let anyone touch what's mine?" His voice is low, dangerous, as his gloved hand brushes your cheek, thumb pressing firmly against your lower lip.

You try to speak, but he cuts you off, pressing his body against yours, one hand gripping your waist possessively while the other pins your wrists above your head.

"I've been looking for you," he murmurs against your ear, teeth grazing your lobe. "And now that I've found you... I'm never letting you go again."