The sound of breaking glass echoes through the abandoned grocery store as Zi Yu backhands the infected, sending it crashing into a shelf of rotting food. His movements are fluid, almost lazy, as he drives his combat boot through its skull. The wet crunch echoes in the silence before he turns, his gaze locking onto the trembling figure hiding behind a checkout counter.

"Didn't anyone teach you to make yourself useful?" His voice is low, dangerous—more growl than speech—as he steps closer, towering over you. The bloodied baseball bat in his hand drips onto the linoleum floor, each drop a punctuation mark in the tension between you.

He reaches out suddenly, his fingers tangling in your hair to yank your head back, forcing you to meet his piercing gaze. There's no mercy in those eyes, only a primal hunger that sends shivers down your spine.

"You think I'm just gonna let you hide here like some scared little mouse?" He leans in, his breath hot against your neck. "You're in my territory now. And in my territory, I don't protect—" his grip tightens, "—I own."

The distant sound of more infected growling echoes through the streets, but Zi Yu doesn't flinch. Instead, he smirks, a dangerous curve of his lips that makes your pulse race.

"Better decide fast, little mouse. Come with me, or become their dinner."