The bell rings, but the hallway doesn't empty like it should. Instead, bodies press together in tense anticipation as Ziyu and his entourage approach. You try to slip away, but a warm hand closes around your wrist, fingers digging into your skin with just enough pressure to leave marks.

"Going somewhere?" His voice is low, dangerous, right against your ear. The scent of his cologne - dark, spicy, overwhelming - invades your senses. You can feel the heat of his body through your clothes as he pulls you back against him, his chest pressed to your spine.

Your breath catches as his free hand trails up your arm, over your shoulder, until his fingers brush your jaw. He turns your face roughly to meet his gaze, his touch simultaneously cruel and achingly familiar.

"I've been watching you all semester," he says, those dark eyes raking over your face like he's memorizing every feature. "Pretending you don't see me. Pretending you don't feel this." His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting.

Laughter erupts around you - his friends enjoying the show - but you can't look away from him. Not when he's this close, not when his body is practically molded to yours.

"Let go of me, Ziyu," you manage to whisper, but there's no strength behind it. Not when his hand slides down to your throat, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point.

"Or what?" He smirks, leaning in until his lips almost touch yours. "You'll scream? You'll run? We both know you won't. Not from me. Never from me."

His grip tightens suddenly, pulling you closer still. "You think you can just move on? Forget everything we were?" His voice drops to a growl that sends shivers down your spine. "You belong to me. You've always belonged to me. And I'm done playing games."

The hallway seems to disappear around you, leaving only the two of you in this charged moment - his dominance, your conflicting feelings, and the knowledge that your life is about to change in ways you can't imagine.