Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
In our world, odd and weak got noticed.
I folded my arms. “Whatever location we get from that call between the Butcher and my father, we’ll have a special team go out to that location first to assess.”
“Smart.” Reo finished buttoning his shirt. “I’ll work on gathering a good team to be on standby after your visit with the Lion.”
“The fucking Lion.” I tensed again. “Do we have any indication of why he is here?”
“None. His helicopters arrived at dawn. He’s brought over twenty men, which is a bit excessive, but not enough to help him get off this island if we don’t want him to leave.”
I smirked. “And who greeted him?”
“I did. Rushed out there, barely clothed and showed him proper respect.”
“What did the asshole say?”
“Do you want his exact words?”
“Probably not, but go ahead.”
“The Lion said, ‘The Dragon has a nice island. Smaller than I expected from the footage. But then, dragons aren't lions—they don't need as much room. I’ve let him keep it this long. It seemed rude not to visit.’”
“Cocky piece of shit bastard.”
“Agreed.” Reo put on his jacket. “He asked to see the beach, and I knew you were still sleeping. I quickly dressed and then I gave him a small tour that didn’t reveal things that you wouldn’t want known.”
“He didn’t see the bamboo room?”
“Of course not, but I’m sure he knows it exists.”
For a second, I let myself imagine the Lion in my bamboo room—his muffled screams as the first sharpened shoots pierced his flesh, the way his eyes would bulge when he realized what was happening. How the bamboo would thread through his muscle like needles through fabric, splitting bone as it grew.
How he'd beg for death by the third day, when the stalks would be visible pushing up through his abdomen, lifting him slightly off the ground.
The blood would pool and darken beneath him, drawing flies.
One day, my friend. One day.
A smile spread across my face, and my tongue pressed against the back of my teeth. Somewhere deep in my chest, the dragon purred.
Then I pictured Nyomi's face if she ever discovered the bamboo room. It would be worse than disgust, and the moment when she stopped looking for the man she believed I could be—because she'd finally stop believing he existed.
Reo disrupted my thoughts. “After the tour, he asked to speak to you.”
I bet he did.
Rin came over and handed Reo the first glass.
“That’s when I came to get you.” Reo accepted the glass with a nod, lifted it, and took a short sip.
Next, Rin came over and passed me the second glass. I took it but didn’t raise it right away. I just let it sit in my hand.
Due to this, there would be no gossip about how Reo got beaten so bad he needed to drink the pain down. Now all would say that after the beating, Reo and the Dragon drank expensive whiskey together.
This was what Nyomi didn’t understand yet.
Power wasn’t just deciding who lived or died. It was knowing when to soften a blow without anyone realizing it had been softened. When to give something without appearing to give at all.
When to let a man take pain in silence because taking it loudly would greatly cost him his reputation later.
My Tiger wanted me to get her permission.
She wanted a say.
A voice in the moment where blood dripped into fire.
But this—this subtle choreography—was layered too deep. Too many rules she hadn’t learned yet. Too many consequences she hadn’t lived inside long enough to anticipate.
If I handed her that kind of authority now, it wouldn’t make her stronger.
It would make me weaker.
My mind drifted back to the way she'd looked at me this morning and demanded I never make deadly decisions without her.
My chest ached.
What am I going to do about this?
I glanced at each Fang. “Leave.”
Kaoru moved first, pushing off the doorframe with the kind of grace that made women ruin their marriages. His eyes flicked once to Reo's bruised face—Loss? Worry?—before that heartbreakingly-handsome mask slid back into place and he looked away. By the time he reached the door, he was already someone else.
Someone softer.
Someone who could smile his way into anywhere he needed to be.
Yoichi followed, rifle case shifting against his hip as he pivoted.
Rin glided toward the door, white suit whispering against the floor, already reaching for the handle.
Satoshi hesitated.
Just a fraction too long.
He stood near the wall, shoulders tight, gaze cutting from me to Reo and back again. His jaw worked, pulse visible in his throat. He looked like he was deciding whether he could step in if things went sideways.
I liked that he was worried for my Roar.
Once, years ago, Satoshi hadn’t liked Reo at all. Had been territorial of me in a way only men raised in rigid hierarchies ever were—possessive of my attention, suspicious of anyone who stood too close to me for too long.