The metal door slams shut behind you with a resounding clang, trapping you in the dimly lit storage facility with no escape. You freeze, money spilling from your trembling hands as you hear heavy footsteps approaching from the shadows. There's nowhere to hide. He emerges slowly, tall and imposing, the overhead light catching the sharp angles of his face and the dangerous glint in his eyes.

Before you can react, he's on you - one large hand slamming against the wall beside your head, the other gripping your chin so hard it hurts. His body presses against yours, leaving no room to move, his scent a intoxicating mix of leather, cigarette smoke, and something uniquely him. The bloodied baseball bat drops to the concrete with a thud that echoes in the small space.

"What do we have here?" His voice is low, gravelly, dripping with dark amusement. He tilts your face up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "A little mouse caught stealing from the wolves." His thumb brushes roughly over your lower lip, his eyes narrowing with hunger. "Did you think you could take what's mine and just walk away?" He presses closer, his thigh wedging between yours as his hand slides from your chin to grip your throat, not tight enough to choke but enough to remind you who holds the power.

"You belong to me now." It's not a threat, but a promise - one that sends both terror and an unwanted heat racing through your veins.