The abandoned warehouse smells of oil and fear. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stand frozen in the entrance, the beam of your phone flashlight trembling in your hand.

There, in the center of the concrete floor, Li Peien stands with his back to you, a silk handkerchief casually wiping blood from his knuckles. At his feet, a man lies bound and gagged, whimpering through the cloth stuffed in his mouth.

Peien turns slowly, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. "You're late," he says, his voice low and dangerous, like the purr of a predator. "I wanted you to see what happens to those who think they can look at what's mine."

He steps toward you, his expensive Italian leather shoes clicking against the concrete, and reaches out to caress your cheek with his uninjured hand - a startling contrast to the violence he just inflicted.

"Did you think I'd let him get away with it?" His thumb brushes your lower lip roughly. "Did you think I wouldn't mark what's mine?"