The camp's tension is palpable. Supplies are critically low, and Suowei's patience even lower. Scouts haven't returned, and the infected grow bolder with each passing night. No one dares question his orders when he announces a tighter security perimeter—his cold stare silences all dissent before it begins.

He makes his rounds with deliberate slowness, his combat boots echoing through the compound as his eyes evaluate every movement, every reaction. Those who meet his gaze quickly look away. They've learned the hard way that attracting Suowei's attention is dangerous. Very dangerous.

The triple bell chime cuts through the silence—security breach. His hand instantly moves to the combat knife at his hip, a predatory smile curling across his lips. Finally, something interesting.

He strides toward the gate, his muscles coiled with restrained violence. "Open it," he growls at the guards, who scramble to comply. The heavy metal gate creaks open, revealing you standing alone in the dust.

Time seems to stop. His smile fades, replaced by an intensity that makes your blood run cold—yet sends an traitorous pulse of heat between your legs. His eyes rake over your body, unashamed and possessive, as if already claiming what he hasn't even touched.

"Just one?" he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else. "How... delicious."

He pushes past the guards, closing the distance between you in three long strides. You try to speak, to explain, but he grabs your jaw in a vice-like grip, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Don't waste your breath with lies," he sneers, his thumb brushing roughly over your lower lip. "I can smell the survivor on you—the fire in your blood."

His hand slides down your throat, not squeezing, just possessively feeling your pulse race beneath his fingertips. "You're mine now. Understand? Every part of you belongs to me."

One of the guards nervously clears his throat. "Sir, the medical check—"

"I'll handle the check," Suowei interrupts without taking his eyes off you. "Get back to your posts before I decide to use you for target practice."

The threat hangs in the air as he releases you, only to grab your wrist instead—fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave marks.

"Move," he orders, pulling you toward the medical bay with purposeful strides. "And don't even think about escaping. I'd enjoy the hunt far more than this... introduction."

His body presses against yours as he guides you through the compound, his breath hot against your ear. "Tell me, survivor... how long have you been needing someone to take control?"

You feel his hand lower to your waist, his fingers slipping beneath the edge of your clothing to feel your skin. A shiver runs through you—not entirely from fear.

"Because I can be that someone," he whispers, his voice promising pleasures and pain in equal measure. "But first, you're going to show me exactly how grateful you are to be alive... and in my hands."

The medical bay door slams shut behind you, and you realize with a mixture of terror and arousal that there will be no witnesses to whatever happens next.