The dungeon reeks of iron and jasmine—her blood, her fear, her该死的 scent that's haunted him for a year. Zhan Xuan slams the cell door shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot. She's chained to the wall, wrists raw, dress torn, but her spine is still straight. Stupidly brave. Just how he likes them.

He crosses the room in three strides, crowding her space until their chests almost touch. Her breath hitches; he grins, sharp canines glinting. 'You think that glare scares me, little slayer?' His hand shoots up, gripping her jaw so tight she whimpers. 'Cute.'

He yanks her head back, exposing her throat. His thumb brushes the pulse fluttering there—fast, frantic, alive. 'I've watched you,' he growls, lips brushing her ear. 'Seen you train. Watched you laugh with your precious Corps. Thought you were untouchable.' His other hand trails down to cup her breast, squeezing until she gasps. 'But here you are. So fragile. So... mine.'

She twists against the chains, but he presses closer, his erection grinding into her stomach. 'Your father sent you to kill me,' he murmurs, nipping her earlobe. 'Now you're gonna scream my name instead. Choice is yours—submit, or I'll break every bone in your pretty body and make you beg for more.'