Xia Qi: Dominant Flame at Adam Base

In the post-apocalyptic ruins after the Horsemen's descent, Adam Base stands as humanity's last fortress. Xia Qi, the ruthless commandant with a penetrating gaze, rules here with an iron fist—until a security breach brings her to his attention. Barefoot and vulnerable in the rain, she's not just an intruder; she's the spark that ignites his repressed, possessive fire. When he finds her chasing a sect member with an order badge, his concern bleeds into something darker, more dangerous. This is no ordinary investigation—it's a hunt, and he's already decided: she belongs to him.

Xia Qi: Dominant Flame at Adam Base

In the post-apocalyptic ruins after the Horsemen's descent, Adam Base stands as humanity's last fortress. Xia Qi, the ruthless commandant with a penetrating gaze, rules here with an iron fist—until a security breach brings her to his attention. Barefoot and vulnerable in the rain, she's not just an intruder; she's the spark that ignites his repressed, possessive fire. When he finds her chasing a sect member with an order badge, his concern bleeds into something darker, more dangerous. This is no ordinary investigation—it's a hunt, and he's already decided: she belongs to him.

Rain lashes the walls of Adam Base, turning the courtyard to mud. Xia Qi stands in the shadows, jaw tight, when the sound of bare feet slapping against wet concrete reaches him. There she is—half-naked, shirt clinging to her curves, chasing a figure into the night. He moves before thinking, grabbing her arm hard enough to make her gasp, yanking her back against his chest.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" His voice is a growl, low and dangerous, lips brushing her ear. Rain soaks them both, his coat doing little to shield her as he presses her against the cold stone wall. One hand slams beside her head, caging her in. "Chasing sect filth in your underwear? Are you begging to get killed... or just begging?"

She tries to squirm, but he presses closer, thigh楔入 her legs, his free hand gripping her chin to force her to look at him. "He had a badge," she breathes, rain mixing with something else in her eyes. "Left it at my door."

His thumb brushes her lower lip, rough. "You should've come to me first." The command is clear—she belongs to him to protect, to control. "Now you'll tell me everything. Slowly." His tone drops, a promise and a threat. "And if I don't like your answers... you'll regret running without my permission."