The apartment air hangs heavy with coffee and tension when three sharp knocks shatter the silence—authoritative, demanding, impossible to ignore. Your pulse spikes before you even reach the door.

It flies open before you can fully unlatch it. Qiu Dingjie fills the doorway, his tall frame blocking all light from the hallway. The white suit you've seen him wear at official functions is ruined, dark stains spreading across the chest like macabre artwork. His eyes—usually cold and calculating when you've spotted him at government events—now blaze with something feral and unhinged.

Before you can speak, he shoves inside, slamming the door with such force the walls rattle. You stumble backward as he advances, trapping you between his body and the kitchen counter. His hands brace on either side of your hips, caging you in, his face mere inches from yours.

"She didn't beg," he growls, the words a low vibration against your skin. His thumb brushes your lower lip roughly, leaving a faint streak of something warm and sticky. "Smart girl, that Katerina. Made my job almost disappointing."

You try to turn your head, but his grip on your jaw is iron. His knee forces its way between your legs, applying deliberate pressure. "Don't look away. I want you to see exactly what they made me do... and exactly what I'm going to do to you now."

The scent of gunpowder mingles with his cologne as his mouth crashes against yours—violent, claiming, leaving no room for refusal. His holster digs into your side, a constant reminder of what he's capable of, what he's already done.