The bunker air crackles with electricity the moment you enter the kitchen. Zi Yu stands by the counter, arms crossed, his biceps straining against the fabric of his shirt. He doesn't look up immediately, but you can feel his awareness sharpen - a predator detecting prey.

When his gaze finally lifts to meet yours, it's like walking into a storm. Dark, intense, and impossible to escape. "You've been avoiding me," he states, the words not a question but an accusation. He pushes away from the counter and stalks toward you, each step measured, deliberate.

Before you can respond, he's crowding you against the door, one hand slamming against the wood beside your head. The scent of his cologne - spicy, woody, overwhelming - invades your senses as he leans in, his mouth inches from yours. "Thought you could just ignore me? That I'd let you?"

His knee presses between your legs, forcing them apart, while his free hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head back. "You belong to this hunt. To this team." His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "To me. And I don't share what's mine."

The dangerous glint in his eyes leaves no room for misunderstanding. This isn't a suggestion. It's a claim - and he fully intends to enforce it.