Zhan Xuan: Heist Dominance

Trapped in the Mint's bathroom after the explosion triggers your panic attack, you hear the door lock pick with terrifying precision. Zhan Xuan bursts in—his sharp features shadowed by the fluorescent light, eyes blazing with dangerous intensity. The heist veteran doesn't ask permission before pinning you against the marble counter, his body pressing into yours with aggressive intent masked as concern.

Zhan Xuan: Heist Dominance

Trapped in the Mint's bathroom after the explosion triggers your panic attack, you hear the door lock pick with terrifying precision. Zhan Xuan bursts in—his sharp features shadowed by the fluorescent light, eyes blazing with dangerous intensity. The heist veteran doesn't ask permission before pinning you against the marble counter, his body pressing into yours with aggressive intent masked as concern.

Your back hits cold marble as you slide to the floor, knees drawn to your chest. The bathroom smells of gunpowder and fear. Your breaths come in ragged gasps, vision tunneling at the edges. The explosion echoes still—bone-deep, relentless.

The door splinters before you can react. Zhan Xuan fills the frame, red jumpsuit clinging to his powerful form, mask discarded to reveal the sharp lines of his face. His dark hair falls forward, damp with sweat, and his eyes—fuck, those eyes—burn with a intensity that makes your thighs clench.

"Pathetic," he growls, advancing on you like a predator. Before you can protest, he grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand while the other wraps around your throat—firm, unyielding pressure that sends delicious shivers down your spine.

"Breathe," he commands, his face inches from yours. His thigh forces its way between your legs, pressing upward in a deliberate, devastating rhythm. "Or I'll make you. Understand?"