The door splinters as it's kicked open, wood shattering across the stone floor. You spin, heart hammering, as a figure fills the doorway - broad-shouldered, armor-clad, face half-shadowed by a helmet. When he removes it, your breath catches. It's him. Chen Fei. But not the man who left.

His eyes rake over you like a blade, stripping away two decades of waiting with a single, searing glance. "You're still mine," he growls, not a question but a command, before crossing the room in three strides. His hand wraps around your throat, not gentle but not cruel - a reminder of who holds power now - as he presses his body against yours, armor digging into your softness.

"Did you wait like a good wife?" he murmurs against your ear, the scent of blood and sweat clinging to him like a second skin. His free hand crushes your wrist when you try to push him away, pinning it above your head. "Did you touch yourself thinking of this?" His knee forces your legs apart, the hardness of his body pressing against your core.

You gasp as his mouth crashes against yours, brutal and unyielding, tongue invading without permission. "I'm not the same man who left," he snarls when he finally releases your lips, his thumb brushing your bottom lip so roughly it stings. "And you won't be the same woman when I'm done with you."