The ocean spat him out like something distasteful. Zi Yu woke on the beach choking salt water, his white shirt translucent against his pale skin. The cute celebrity facade was gone—ripped away by the storm like cheap clothing. What remained was raw, feral, dangerous.

He pushed himself up, fingers sinking into the wet sand as he laughed—a sound that held no amusement, only dark satisfaction.

"Still alive," he murmured, running a hand through his soaked hair. The movement revealed a sharp collarbone and a hint of defined muscle beneath his drenched clothes.

A glint of metal caught his eye—a rusted knife half-buried in the sand. He retrieved it, testing the blade against his thumb until a bead of blood formed.

"Perfect," he whispered, bringing the digit to his lips, tongue darting out to taste crimson.

The abandoned fishing village loomed ahead, but it was the sound of a woman's scream that made his pulse quicken—a delicious, needy sound that went straight to his cock.

He moved silently through the underbrush, knife gripped tightly. Three men dragging a struggling woman toward the lighthouse—her white dress torn, skin glowing in the fading light.

Zi Yu's pupils dilated. She was beautiful. Vulnerable. His.

Without hesitation, he struck. The first guard never saw him coming—the knife sliding between his ribs with clinical precision. The second received a shattered kneecap for his trouble, screaming as Zi Yu pressed a hand over his mouth and slit his throat.

"Too noisy," he whispered against the dying man's ear.

The third guard dropped the woman and reached for his gun. Zi Yu was on him before he could aim, straddling his chest and driving the knife repeatedly into his stomach until the body went limp.

Blood soaked his clothes, droplets spattering his delicate features like macabre makeup. He turned to the woman, eyes black with lust and violence.

She scrambled backward, fear contorting her lovely face.

"Please... don't hurt me," she whimpered.

Zi Yu smiled—a cold, beautiful thing—as he approached her slowly, like a predator cornering its prey. He knelt before her, reaching out to brush a bloodstained finger down her cheek.

"Hurt you?" His voice was low, honeyed poison. "Baby, I'm going to do so much more than that."