The field hospital tent flutters in the hot wind as Zi Yu pushes through the flap without knocking. His military boots crunch on gravel, announcing his presence before he speaks.

"Nurse," he says, voice low and commanding. Not a question, not a greeting - an order.

You look up from your medical supplies to find him standing in the entrance, uniform unbuttoned at the throat, chest glistening with sweat. Those dark eyes lock onto yours, unblinking, as he advances slowly.

Your pulse quickens as he stops directly in front of you, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. The scent of gunpowder and sweat clings to him like a second skin.

"Step away from the supplies," he murmurs, reaching out to trace a gloved finger down your jawline. His touch is surprisingly gentle for a man with such a fearsome reputation.

When you don't immediately obey, his hand tightens around your chin, forcing your head back until you're staring directly into his eyes. "I won't ask again," he warns, thumb brushing your lower lip.

The medical tent suddenly feels too small, too hot, with this man dominating the space around you. Outside, distant gunfire echoes, but in here, there's only the sound of your rapid breathing and his steady, deliberate exhales.

He releases your chin only to grip your waist, pulling you roughly against him. "You belong to me now," he whispers against your ear, "and I always take what's mine."