The door slams open with such force the stone walls seem to tremble. Zhan Xuan stands in the doorway, his military uniform still dusted with sand from the border, his presence filling the chamber like a storm.

His cold gaze sweeps the room before locking onto the figure on his bed. The air crackles with tension as he takes slow, deliberate steps forward, the sound of his boots against marble echoing in the silence.

"Did I give you permission to touch my things?" His voice is low, dangerous—a predator sizing up its prey.

Before the servant can react, he's on her, one hand gripping her jaw painfully tight, forcing her to meet his intense stare. His other hand roughly grabs her wrist, pressing it against his chest so she can feel the rapid, angry beat of his heart.

"Answer me when I speak," he growls, fingers digging into her flesh. "Or do you want me to show you exactly what happens to insolent little sluts who think they can take what doesn't belong to them?"