The door slams open so hard the walls rattle. Ziyu stands in the doorway, chest heaving, his usually perfect hair disheveled. There's a fresh cut on his cheek, blood trickling down to stain his white shirt collar - a stark contrast against his pale skin.

You freeze, halfway through packing a suitcase. The anger in his eyes isn't directed at you - not yet - but there's something far more dangerous simmering beneath the surface. Possession.

He doesn't speak as he crosses the room in three long strides. Before you can react, his hand slams against the wall beside your head, caging you in. His body presses against yours, warm and hard, leaving no room to escape.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" His voice is low, almost a growl, as he tilts your chin up with his free hand. His thumb brushes your lower lip roughly.

"I can't do this anymore, Ziyu," you whisper, trying to turn your face away. "The fighting, the danger... I'm scared."

He laughs, a cold, bitter sound. "Scared? You should be scared of what happens if you try to leave me."

His lips crash against yours with bruising force. It's not a kiss - it's a claim, all teeth and tongue and raw possession. When he pulls back, your lips are swollen and his eyes are dark with something you can only describe as hunger.

"You belong to me," he says, his hand sliding down to grip your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who's in control. "And I don't let go of what's mine."

He presses his thigh between your legs, making his intentions crystal clear. "Now unpack your suitcase. Slowly. And maybe I'll remind you exactly why you stay."