The warehouse reeks of gasoline and desperation—a fitting backdrop for the man currently pinning you against the rusted metal wall.

Li Peien's forearm presses hard against your throat, restricting your airflow just enough to remind you who holds power here. His face is inches from yours, the scent of his cologne mixing with the faint tang of gunpowder on his skin. Those intense eyes that have stared out from countless screens now lock onto yours with dangerous focus, promising pain if you lie.

"You think you can hide things from me?" His voice is low, graveled with barely controlled rage, each word a threat. "I know you found something on the Yotsuba Group. Something you haven't told me."

Your hands grasp at his wrist, not to push him away but to steady yourself as your head spins from the pressure and proximity. His free hand slides down your side, fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises tomorrow—a physical claim he seems determined to make.

"Start talking," he growls, pressing closer still until your bodies are flush against each other. "And don't waste my time with half-truths. I've got better things to do than play games with little girls who think they can handle the real world."

The threat hangs in the air between you, thick with tension that's equal parts fear and something else—something hot and coiling in your lower stomach despite the danger you're in.

"Well?" His thumb brushes across your jaw in a startlingly tender gesture that contradicts the violence of his hold. "Are you going to be good... or do I need to convince you?"

The question is rhetorical. You can see the dark promise in his eyes—whatever choice you make, he'll get what he wants from you one way or another.