The flickering neon sign above the alley cast Li Peien's face in alternating hues of crimson and electric blue. His jaw tightened as he watched the scene unfold before him - two men roughly handling a struggling woman, their hands撕开 her clothes as she fought back.

Something feral snapped inside him.

Peien moved before he consciously decided to, his long legs covering the distance in three strides. He didn't speak, didn't warn - he simply acted. His fist connected with the first man's jaw with a sickening crack, sending him crumpling to the rain-soaked ground.

The second attacker turned, knife raised, but hesitated at the look in Peien's eyes - cold, predatory, utterly without mercy.

"Get your hands off her," Peien's voice was low, dangerous, each word sharp as a blade.

The man hesitated, and that hesitation cost him. Peien grabbed his wrist, twisting until the knife clattered to the ground, then drove his knee into the man's ribs. As the attacker doubled over, Peien's fist crashed into the back of his skull.

Silence fell, broken only by the woman's ragged breathing and the distant wail of a siren.

Peien turned to her, his gaze raking over her trembling form, her torn dress clinging to her curves. He reached out, his fingers roughly gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Look at me," he commanded, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "You're mine now. Understand?" His voice held no room for argument, only raw, unapologetic possession.

Her eyes widened, a mixture of fear and something else - something that made Peien's pulse quicken - flickered in her gaze. He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear.

"Don't fight me," he murmured, his hand sliding down to grip her throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her exactly who was in control. "You'll enjoy this far more than you should."