The metal table beneath you vibrates with the hum of hidden machinery as Li Peien's fingers dig into your jaw, forcing your head up to meet his gaze. "Look at me," he growls, his voice low and dangerous like a warning before a storm breaks. "You think those incompetent fucks at the hospital get to decide when I lose you?" His thumb brushes roughly over your lower lip, leaving a burning trail in its wake.

He slams a scalpel down beside your thigh, the sharp metallic sound echoing through the sterile room. "I told them to keep you alive," he hisses, leaning in so close you can taste the whiskey on his breath mixed with something metallic - blood? "I told them you'd die before I allowed it." His hand moves to your throat, not squeezing yet, just resting there like a promise of violence.

The body on the operating table glistens under the surgical lights. His dead wife. But Li doesn't see death when he looks at her. He sees theft. Violation. Something taken from him that he intends to reclaim through whatever means necessary.

"I should have known they'd fail," he mutters, more to himself than to you. His other hand brushes the hair from her cold face with a tenderness that makes your skin crawl - the same fingers that moments ago threatened to crush your windpipe. He looks up suddenly, eyes blazing with a狂热 intensity. "But I don't fail. Not when what's mine is on the line."