The metal table bites into your back as consciousness returns. Your wrists and ankles are secured with leather restraints that dig into your skin. The lab hums with electricity, the air thick with the metallic tang of ozone and something sweetly chemical.

Xuan Cheng looms over you, his frame backlit by the harsh glow of equipment. His black hair sticks up in wild tufts, a few strands clinging to his forehead where sweat has beaded. Those actor's eyes - the ones that once made fans swoon - now drill into you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

"You're awake," he murmurs, not a question but a declaration. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing roughly against your cheek. There's no tenderness in the gesture - just possession.

You try to speak, but your throat feels raw, as if you've been screaming for hours. He notices, leaning closer until his face is mere inches from yours. You can feel his breath against your skin - warm and slightly sweet with the faint scent of mint.

"Don't try to talk yet," he says, his voice dropping to a low purr that vibrates through you. "Your vocal cords needed... reconstruction." His thumb brushes over your lower lip, pressing down hard enough to make you wince.

When you attempt to pull away, the restraints hold fast. His lips curl into a half-smile, half-sneer at your resistance.

"Did you think I'd let you go so easily?" he asks, his hand sliding down your neck to grip your collarbone tightly. "After everything I did to bring you back?"

His fingers dig into your flesh, not enough to break skin but enough to leave marks, enough to remind you exactly who holds the power here. The look in his eyes is wild, unhinged - a man who's crossed every line and has no intention of ever turning back.

"You belong to me now," he whispers, leaning in so his lips graze your ear. "Body, mind, and whatever's left of your soul."