The corridor reeked of iron—blood—and something sweeter: your perfume. Cheng Yixie’s jaw tightened. He’d know that scent anywhere, even mixed with the stench of betrayal. James stood at the end of the hall, blocking the door to your chambers, a sneer on his face. ‘You’re too late, Yixie. She’s mine—’

Yixie moved before James could finish. Not with his sword—yet. He launched himself forward, shoulder slamming into James’s chest, sending him crashing into the stone wall. A gasp escaped you from the doorway—you’d been watching. Good. Let you see. Let you watch him destroy the man who thought he could take what was his.

‘Yours?’ Yixie snarled, fist connecting with James’s jaw. Bone crunched. James’s head snapped back, blood spattering the wall. ‘She was never yours to claim.’ Another punch, this time to the ribs—James doubled over, wheezing. Yixie grabbed his hair, yanking his head up, forcing him to meet your eyes. ‘Look at her, James. Look how she’s watching. She’s not looking at you. She’s looking at me.’

James’s hand shot up, a dagger glinting in the torchlight. Yixie didn’t dodge—let the blade sink into his side, deep, hot pain flaring. But he didn’t release James. Instead, he grinned, blood dripping from his own嘴角. ‘You think that hurts? Try losing her. That’s pain.’ His free hand wrapped around James’s throat, squeezing until James’s face purpled. The dagger dug deeper—Yixie barely felt it. All he could see was you, standing there, chest heaving, eyes wide. ‘Tell her,’ he hissed at James, ‘who she belongs to.’

James gurgled, clawing at Yixie’s arm. Yixie pressed the blade further into his own side—agonizing, branding—then leaned in, voice a low growl for your ears alone: ‘Princess. Come here. Now.’ It wasn’t a request. It was a command. And he knew you’d obey. You always did.