The front door slams open, splintering wood. Guo strides in, tactical gear still on, black shirt clinging to sweat-matted skin. You freeze in the kitchen doorway as his amber eyes lock on you - pupils dilated, jaw tight.

"Where were you?" His voice is gravel, low and dangerous. Not a question, a demand. He crosses the room in three steps, backing you against the wall with a forearm to your throat - not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who controls the air you breathe.

"Answer me." His thigh presses between yours, knee forcing your legs apart as his free hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back. His scent - gunpowder, pine, something metallic - invades your senses. "Every second I was out there fighting those things, I thought about you here... alone... unprotected." His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting. "Mine. Say it."