The scuffle left behind only blood-spattered pavement and the stench of fear. Groans echoed faintly as the last of the attackers dragged themselves away, broken and defeated.
Gu Zeyan didn't even glance at them.
His focus was singular.
Yuxi.
Her form slumped slightly against the wall, breath shallow and rapid. Her blouse was torn at the sleeve, and her knuckles scraped. She looked like she had fought—fought with everything she had—but she was still so small in that moment, framed by shadows and concrete, her eyes wide with shock.
He stalked toward her, each step vibrating with a lethal edge.
His fists remained clenched, crimson streaks still dripping down from his knuckles. But the rage wasn't just from the fight—it hadn't left his body yet. It simmered, dangerously, coiled around something far deeper than just anger.
His voice, when it finally broke the silence, was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Are you out of your mind?"
Yuxi startled at the sharp edge in his tone. Her eyes met his, full of conflict—gratitude, confusion, but mostly, fury.
He closed the distance in two strides and grabbed her wrist. Not hard—but firm enough that she couldn't pull away. Firm enough to say, You're not going anywhere.
"Walking out here alone?" he snapped, his voice low and cold. "After everything that's happened? After the party?"
"I didn't think—" she started, but her voice was trembling.
"Exactly," he cut in, his tone tightening like a noose. "You didn't think."
"I'm not a child!" she burst out, finally finding her strength. She yanked her arm back—he let go, but only barely. "You don't get to yell at me like this. You don't get to barge in and play hero like some domineering—"
"Knight?" he finished for her, his expression dark. "Is that what you think I'm doing?"
She took a shaky breath, trying to suppress the pounding in her chest. "You're not helping me. You're trying to own me."
The accusation hit harder than she expected.
His jaw ticked. Shadows gathered beneath his eyes.
And then, without warning, he pulled her closer.
His hand caught her wrist again, but this time, his other arm slid around her waist and held her tightly against him.
Yuxi gasped. Her hands pressed against his chest, but the heat of him seared through her palms.
"Property?" he murmured, his voice dangerously low, like the rumble of an oncoming storm. "Is that what you think this is?"
She tried to speak, but his scent wrapped around her—something dark and clean, like rain and smoke, and something uniquely him. She was drowning in it, in him.
"I told you," he whispered, lips brushing against the edge of her ear. "This world isn't kind to the weak. Do you think your pride will protect you? That your silence will shield you? It won't. Not from men like them."
"I would've fought them off," she whispered, breathless. "I was trying—"
"You shouldn't have had to."
His grip didn't tighten, but it didn't soften either. It held her like a promise. Like a claim.
"I won't apologize for protecting you," he said quietly, eyes boring into hers. "If you won't protect yourself, then I will. Even if it means becoming the villain in your eyes."
Her throat constricted. His words hit places she didn't want to acknowledge.
Terrifying. Yes.
But also... safe.
And that safety—that overwhelming, smothering feeling of being looked after—was something she hadn't felt in years. Maybe ever.
She shoved at his chest again, but her movements lacked strength. "That's not how love works, Gu Zeyan."
"I never said anything about love," he replied, but something in his tone shifted. "This isn't love. It's responsibility."
Her eyes flickered with disbelief. "Responsibility?"
"You wear my ring. You live under my name. That makes you mine to protect. Mine to guard. Mine to keep safe."
Her breath hitched.
"What's… yours?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
His forehead dropped against hers, the tension in his body vibrating into her skin. "Mine," he whispered. "In every way that matters."
He didn't kiss her.
He didn't need to.
His nearness, his intensity, the fire in his words—it burned through her like wildfire. And terrifyingly, she didn't want to run from the flame.
But her pride—her last shred of dignity—held her upright.
"You can't keep doing this," she said, voice trembling. "You can't use fear and violence to control the people you care about."
"I didn't save you tonight because I care," he said after a beat, his voice raw. "I saved you because I couldn't watch it happen. Because the thought of losing you—of not getting there in time—" he broke off, eyes flashing.
Then, quietly, as if admitting it would shatter something inside him: "I almost lost you."
The vulnerability in his tone was unexpected. It carved into her like glass—sharp and undeniable.
And for a moment, they were just two broken people, caught in a storm of expectations, danger, and feelings neither of them wanted to name.
Then, slowly, he let go of her.
The absence of his touch left behind a cold hollowness that she hated herself for feeling.
He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders without saying a word. His fingers lingered near her collarbone longer than necessary, his gaze flicking to the bruising already forming on her arm.
"I'll have the building's security fired before morning," he said, voice flat. "You'll have a driver. An escort. You won't go anywhere unprotected again."
"You don't get to make that decision," she whispered.
He turned, back rigid. But his voice—steady, dark, commanding—carried easily into the night.
"I do. As long as you're my wife."
He walked away without looking back, his figure cutting through the darkness like a blade.
And Yuxi stood there, wrapped in his scent, his warmth, his words—feeling more exposed than she had under any attack.
She hated his dominance.
She hated how he decided things for her.
She hated how he stirred things inside her she didn't want to feel.
But most of all…
She hated that deep down, beneath the fury and pride, a part of her didn't want him to stop.