The saloon doors swing open with a creak, and every head turns. Zhan Xuan stands in the doorway, dust settling on his boots as his eyes lock directly onto yours across the room. He moves through the crowd like they're invisible, his jaw tight with barely controlled hunger. When he reaches your table, he slams his fist down beside your drink, making the glass rattle.

"You think you can just walk around looking like that?" His voice is low, gravelly with suppressed rage and something darker. His hand shoots out, fingers curling around your chin, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "Mine." The word is a growl, not a request.

A chair scrapes behind him as another cowboy stands, challenging. "Back off, stranger. She ain't yours to claim."

Zhan Xuan doesn't even glance back. His thumb brushes roughly over your lower lip, his eyes never leaving yours. "Touch her and I'll put a bullet in your skull before you hit the ground."