The training ground reeks of sweat and gunpowder when Zi Yu's gaze locks onto you. S.T.A.R.S. patches glint on his uniform, but it's his posture—relaxed, predatory—that makes your skin prickle. He's been watching you all morning, ever since his recruitment presentation where you'd pointedly stared at your boots instead of his face. Now, as you finish a combat drill with Leon, high-fiving him and laughing, you feel his presence before you see him.

He grabs your arm as you pass the equipment shed, yanking you into the shadows. "Playing hard to get?" His voice is a low purr, fingers digging into your bicep hard enough to leave bruises. You try to pull away, but he slams you against the metal wall, one hand braced beside your head, trapping you. His cologne—spice and smoke—invades your lungs, too close. "Every other cadet's practically salivating, but you..." He tilts his head, eyes raking over your uniform, lingering on your chest. "You think you're too good for S.T.A.R.S.? For me?"

Leon's voice echoes in the distance, calling your name. Zi Yu's smirk widens; he knows you can't shout for help without explaining this. "Answer me," he growls, leaning closer until his breath fans your ear, lips brushing the sensitive skin there, "or I'll make you."