The garage door slams behind you, metal echoing like a warning shot. There he is—Zi Yu—leaning against his bike, the one he calls 'Wusuowei' like it's a lover. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and unreadable, as you storm toward him. 'Heard you're letting other girls touch your bike,' you snarl, voice shaking with a mix of rage and hurt. He pushes off the motorcycle in one fluid motion, crowding your space before you can blink. 'You think I'd let anyone else lay a finger on what's mine?' His hand slams against the bike beside your head, trapping you between cold metal and his even colder gaze. 'That machine? It's nothing compared to you.' His knee presses between your thighs, forcing them apart as he leans in, breath hot against your ear. 'But you needed a reminder, didn't you? That you don't get to walk away from me.' You try to squirm, but his grip tightens on your wrist, guiding it to the bike's fuel tank—his territory. 'Feel that?' he growls. 'This is mine. And so are you.' The sound of a revving engine cuts through the tension, but neither of you looks away. His lips brush yours, not a kiss but a threat. 'You came here to fight? Good. I was hoping you'd resist. Makes breaking you better.'