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 I saw her tremble harder now. The glint of tears renewed in her eyes.
Her lips were parted—like she wanted to speak, to beg, to say his name—but couldn’t.
Her body was still kneeling.
Still chained.
But the spirit inside her was starting to slip away.
I couldn’t let that happen. “Hiro.”
My brother didn’t hear me. He was too far gone—snarling and yanking, trying to pull the gurney itself off its hinges.
“Hiro!” I barked it louder now voice like steel cracking across the room. “Stand down! I’ll fix this!”
Hiro’s gaze snapped to mine.
For one terrifying second, I thought he might not listen. But something in my face must’ve cut through the fury or maybe it was something in my tone. Maybe the use of the word stand—a soldier’s order.
A brother’s plea.
Hiro exhaled like a volcano letting go of a tremor and then he stopped fighting.
But his body still shook; fists clenched, blood dripping from his cuffs, from his face, from the corner of his mouth.
His chest rose and fell like a beast barely held back by rope.
The men holding him grunted. One of them flexed his shoulder, clearly aching from Hiro’s thrashing.
I turned back to my father. “This has gone far enough.”
I drew in a breath, chest hot and tight with restraint. Then I stepped forward just enough for my voice to carry through the room.
“I’m here, Father.” I said it clearly. Flat. Cold.“So tell me—what the fuck do you want?”
He didn’t look at Hiro.
Didn’t look at Nura.
Only at me.
And in that moment, I understood—this wasn’t just about control.
This was about a show.
“I call. You come. That has always been our way.” He rattled the chain.
Nura shivered.
He scowled at me. “What kept you tonight?”
“What do you want, Father?”
“Careful, son.”
“You’ve dragged my brother in here. Stripped and chained his date to your fucking bedside. All of my patience is gone—”
“Still, you must find it.”
“Father—”
“You’re wondering why she’s here?” My father tilted his head toward Nura. “It’s because of love. Your brother’s. Yours. All of you are bleeding over your soft spots.”
I took a step forward.
One of the guards cocked his weapon, I paused my hand twitching near my belt.
I could kill four of them before they fired.
Reo could handle four too.
But we wouldn’t get all of them, especially not with Nura in the middle of it all.
I forced my voice to stay calm. “Let her go. . .please, Father.”
“Not yet.” He rattled the chain again. “She’s a lesson.”
“She’s a guest.” I spoke through gritted teeth. “And you’ve humiliated her for no fucking reason.”
“She’s a liability. She walked beside a Claw. Smiled at the wrong man. Now we see what that costs.”
I turned to Hiro, eyes burning.
He was straining against the cuffs, veins bulging, but silent. That silence was louder than screams.
I turned back to my father.
My throat was dust and fire.
Nura looked up at me. And I swear to whatever gods haunted this planet—she didn’t look afraid of dying. She just looked ashamed.
That shattered me more than anything else.
She thought this was her fault.
She thought she brought war into our world by just existing.
By being touched.
Cherished.
Wanted.
I looked down at her. “I’m sorry, Nura. You will be free soon.”
She placed her view back on the floor and more tears came.
I clenched my fists. My voice came out rough. “You want to punish someone, Father, punish me. Let Hiro and her go.”
My father smiled.
“You still don’t understand, Kenji. This isn’t punishment.” He tugged the chain.
Nura flinched.
I snapped.
I didn’t move.
But something inside me split down the center.
The Dragon didn’t roar.
He seethed.
My voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “If you want a monster, Father, I’ll give you one.”
“Is that a threat, son?”
“Stop hiding behind a chained woman. Let them go and we will see what it is.”
“Is that how you talk to your sick father?” Then, his other hand moved. The fingers—trembling slightly from age and sickness—slid beneath the silk folds of his lap blanket. When they came back in the open, he had a pistol—small, sleek, and black.
He didn’t lift it.
He didn’t point it at Nura.
He didn’t point it at Hiro.
But that wasn’t the point.
My father had a reputation. The Fox had never pulled a gun without firing it. Even in courtship. Even during negotiations. Even during my fucking childhood.
If the Fox drew his weapon, someone would always, eventually bleed.
I saw it land in Hiro’s mind the second the gun cleared the blanket.
And Hiro lost it. He roared—pure fury, raw and guttural. It ripped through the room like a grenade with no shrapnel, just pain.
Then I heard it; the sharp crack of metal breaking. Hiro’s right wrist somehow snapped through the cuff.
Hiro ripped free, launched upward and with one blood-soaked fist, slammed the nearest guard against the wall so hard the man crumpled like wet paper.
“STOP!” I screamed again, not wanting my brother to die.
A guard surged toward Hiro and tased him in the ribs. Another two grabbed his shoulders. The seventh man recovered just enough to bring his knee into Hiro’s stomach before pinning him down again.