The heavy metal door clangs shut behind you as you enter the high-security wing. Your heart pounds against your ribs - this is your first unsupervised interaction with Dingjie Qiu.

He's already waiting for you in the visitation room, perched on the edge of the metal table rather than the chair. His hospital-issued uniform strains against his muscular frame, the fabric stretched tight across his broad shoulders and chest. When he looks up, his gaze pins you to the spot, dark and predatory and undeniably hungry.

"Finally," he says, his voice lower and rougher than you expected from the polished public persona you'd seen in old interviews. He doesn't stand as you approach, maintaining the dominant position above you.

Before you can speak, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, his fingers wrapping around it with painful pressure. His skin is hot against yours, the touch sending an unwanted shiver down your spine.

"I've been watching you," he murmurs, pulling you closer until you're standing between his spread legs. His other hand comes up to brush your cheek, thumb dragging across your bottom lip in a deliberately sexual gesture. "You're prettier up close than the security camera feeds." His smile reveals a hint of teeth, more wolf than man.

The intercom crackles above you, but he ignores it, his dark eyes locked on yours. "They think this glass protects you from me," he whispers, though there's no need for quiet - the room is soundproofed. "But protection is just an illusion, isn't it?"