Butstill. . .something in me whispered that if I had to turn around and walk away. . .I would be surrendering my crown.
Behind me, the maybe-baby mama giggled again and began speaking in English.
“Really. . .” Her voice was honey-laced venom. “You might as well turn around.”
I didn’t.
“No woman has ever entered the Dragon’s war room,” she continued. “Not on this island. Not even the one in his Tokyo stronghold.”
I gritted my teeth.
She sighed, “The Dragon’s rule is no women and children in the war room. None. Even if a woman holds a high position—as his Ear.”
The pause afterEarwas deliberate.
I didn’t move.
Then came the chuckle. The low, calculated mutter to her court: “She probably doesn’t even know what an Ear is.”
That got them going.
The tall man in the cream kimono howled with laughter like she’d just told the greatest joke in history. “She knows nothing of our ways.”
They laughed like I wasn’t there.
Like I was some poor, lost girl in a pair of borrowed heels pretending to belong.
I kept my spine straight.
My chin high.
But inside?
My heart was slamming so hard it felt like it might bruise my ribs.
And then the door opened.
Fuck.
Reo stepped out.
Everything in me tightened. My vision tunneled. My pulse surged like I was about to leap off a building and hope the wind caught me.
His expression was unreadable.
Behind me, the court went quiet.
Waiting.
Watching.
I stood perfectly still.
Reo, hook me up. Please. Don’t let me lose in this hallway. Not like this. I might fight somebody.
Reo stepped through the doorway as a myth come back from the dead—taller than I remembered, broader too. One muscular arm was tucked in a black sling, and a bandage sat high on his cheekbone—a war medal stitched into his skin.
Even banged up, bruised, and clearly running on fumes. . .Reo was mafia nerd fine. The kind of fine that knew complicated calculus algorithms and also where to hide a body.
