Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 66993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
But what I walked into. . .
What I saw. . .
My entire body locked down with rage and horror.
God no! Why father?! Why?!
Chapter twenty-one
The Fox’s Lesson
Kenji
The first thing I registered was Hiro.
He was restrained. Six men held him down across a stainless-steel gurney. One at each limb. His wrists were handcuffed to the metal frame.
Blood streaked from his lip, smeared across his jaw like war paint.
One eye was nearly swollen shut.
A seventh man stood over him with his gun drawn and barrel pressed to Hiro’s temple.
But that wasn’t what broke me.
That wasn’t the horror.
It was on the other side of the room.
My father lay reclined in his hospital bed—machine tubes snaking in and out of him, his skin paper-thin, his face the color of parchment soaked in sake.
Oxygen hissed rhythmically.
A monitor blinked behind him.
A dying god clawing for one last worship.
In his withered, jeweled fingers held a chain.
Long.
Gleaming.
Iron.
And at the end of that chain—kneeling on the floor, naked, bruised, and weeping—was Nura.
My breath caught in my throat.
No.
Her dark brown skin was mottled in purple and red bruises. A fresh welt bloomed across her collarbone. Her knees shook, pressed against cold tile. Her head was bowed but I could see the curve of her cheek stained with tears.
No. No. No.
Two men stood beside her with their guns drawn. One pointed at her temple. The other at her throat.
Her clothes were scattered across the floor in shreds—her top torn in half, panties tangled near the door, her shoes on opposite sides of the room like they’d been kicked off in struggle.
Her shoulders trembled as if her body couldn’t figure out whether to cry or collapse.
I blinked once.
Twice.
I tried to blink this scene into something else—anything else—but it didn’t change.
Yet. . .even chained and broken, she was the most sacred thing in that room. Not some weak woman. Not a victim. But a powerful symbol of everything we still had to lose.
Love.
I looked at Hiro again.
His body was tight with restrained fury. His teeth bared like an animal. Not because of the pain. Not even because of the men holding him down.
He was staring at Nura.
Staring at her like she was the only thing left in the world that still meant something.
They had chained her.
They had stripped her.
They had broken her.
Because of him.
Because of me.
Because of the goddamn Fox.
I moved toward him.
That’s when the shadows came alive.
Three men stepped out—then five—then more. Silent with their guns leveled at me. Red laser sights painted my chest, throat, and forehead. No one said a word.
Reo stepped up beside me and his voice was as cold as a winter funeral. “Get your fucking guns off the Dragon.”
The closest man spoke. “Then, make sure the Dragon doesn’t step close to the Fox.”
“You keep aiming at him and I’ll make sure your mothers cry over closed caskets.” Reo didn’t blink. “There won’t be enough of you left to mourn properly.”
One of the guards sneered gun still steady, “orders are orders.”
Reo tilted his head. “And body bags are body bags. I can fill ten by breakfast.”
A pause came.
Then one by one, the muzzles dipped.
But none of the men moved back.
The one closest to me spoke again. “Take another step, Dragon. . .and we still will shoot. Closed caskets or not.”
The tension crackled.
I bared my teeth at my father. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”
My father turned his head—just slightly. His voice rasped out from behind the oxygen mask. “You’re late.”
The oxygen pump hissed again like a serpent coiled in his chest. The machines around him beeped softly, trying to convince us he was weak.
But he wasn’t.
He was powerful because he had nothing left to lose.
I kept my voice steady. “Let Hiro and Nura go. Your problem is with me.”
“You know this thing’s name?” He looked down at Nura. “Did you know your brother was dating this? Skin as dark as night. No hair. I’m told she is one of our packagers—”
“Let Hiro and Nura go—”
“When did your brother become so odd that he would congregate with something like this? An animal.”
Hiro snarled.
It wasn’t a sound humans made.
He thrashed so hard that one of the men gripping his arm nearly lost his hold.
The gurney rattled under the force of it.
Blood sprayed from his mouth as his teeth snapped in the direction of the man above him.
The barrel of the gun pressed harder against his temple. The man holding it didn’t even blink.
“I swear to every god—” Hiro growled. “If you don’t move that gun, I’ll chew your fucking hand off!”
The sixth man holding his leg cursed as Hiro’s foot kicked violently. One of the handcuffs twisted at his wrist—metal biting deep, skin breaking open—but he didn’t flinch from the pain.
Hiro was pure violence now.
All feral instinct.
He wasn’t trying to break free for himself.
His eyes were locked on Nura.
She hadn’t moved.