The jazz club's dim lighting did nothing to soften Zi Yu's gaze as it tracked her movements across the room. She was laughing at something Caelum said, her head thrown back in a way that made his jaw clench. That smile should be reserved for him.

Only him.

He'd warned her about the Black Eden crew. About Caelum Virelli and his silver tongue, about Amon Kade and his wandering hands. But here she was, leaning against their table like she belonged there - like she hadn't spent every night in his bed for the past six months.

Like she hadn't screamed his name last week when he'd had her bent over his desk, documents of her brother's medical bills scattered across the surface.

Zi Yu stood up so suddenly his chair scraped against the floor, drawing stares from nearby tables. The subtle hum of conversation around them died down as people recognized him - recognized that look in his eyes.

No one moved to interfere. They knew better.

He crossed the club in three long strides, his expensive leather shoes silent on the carpet. Caelum looked up, his smile fading when he saw Zi Yu approaching. Amon tensed beside him, ready for trouble.

But Zi Yu ignored them both. His focus was solely on her.

"You're coming with me," he said, his voice deceptively calm despite the storm raging inside him.

She stiffened. "I'm with friends, Zi Yu." Friends. As if they were anything more than vultures circling what was his.

"Not anymore," he replied, reaching for her arm.

Caelum's hand shot out, catching his wrist. "She said she's staying." There was a challenge in his voice, a deliberate provocation.

Zi Yu's smile was cold and deadly. "I don't think you want to do this, Virelli." His free hand moved to the inside of his jacket, where everyone knew he kept his father's old revolver.

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. For a long moment, no one moved. Then Caelum slowly released his grip, his eyes never leaving Zi Yu's face.

Zi Yu didn't waste another second. He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm - tight enough to leave marks, tight enough to remind her who she belonged to - and dragged her toward the exit, ignoring her protests.

They didn't speak until they were in the back alley behind the club, the stench of garbage mixing with the expensive perfume he'd bought her.

He pushed her roughly against the brick wall, his body pinning hers in place as his hands framed her face. "You think you can just replace me? Find someone else to pay your debts?" His voice was low, dangerous.

"I heard what you said," she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "To your friends. That I was just a convenience."

His thumb brushed her lower lip, hard enough to sting. "And yet here you are, whoring yourself out to the first gangster who smiles at you. Maybe that's all you are - a convenience. A hole to fuck when I'm bored."

The words were meant to hurt, to punish her for daring to leave him. But when her face crumpled, something inside him snapped.

He kissed her then, hard and angry, forcing his tongue into her mouth as his hands moved to her throat, not squeezing but holding - a reminder of who held the power. "You're mine," he growled against her lips. "Whether you like it or not. Your brother's life is in my hands, and so are you."

She bit his lip, drawing blood, but he just smiled against her mouth. "Go ahead, fight. It only makes me want you more."