Or maybe exactly as hard as I'd meant to.
Behind me, I heard Reo cough—wet and painful—and then the shuffle of his footsteps following.
He always followed.
Even when I wanted to kill him for it.
“Someone get my Roar a damned towel and a new shirt.” I flexed my hand, felt the ache radiate up my wrist, and let it ground me.
“Got it.” Satoshi hurried off in the other direction. “I’ll meet you both downstairs before you get to the Lion.”
I flexed my fingers and sneered.
And now for the fucking Lion.
Chapter three
The Subtle Dance
Kenji
The Lion is here. On my island.
That knowledge settled into my spine like a blade finding its sheath—not fear, but the cold clarity that came before violence.
We descended through all three levels—past the carved banisters, the silk runners, the artwork I'd collected over the years.
Somewhere beneath my ribs, the dragon stirred. Another predator had crossed into my territory without permission, and every instinct I had wanted to greet him with fire.
What does he want?
I kept my pace measured, my expression neutral. But my blood knew what my face wouldn't show—the Lion hadn't come to visit.
Lions didn't travel to watch.
They traveled to hunt.
To dominate and destroy.
I looked at Reo as he wiped blood from his chin. "How did the Lion know where we were? This location is secure."
"I assume his cousin."
Misha.
My shoulders wanted to tighten. I didn't let them. But the awareness was there, humming beneath my skin
Misha’s name conjured an image: devious eyes, sharp features, and the kind of stillness that made you wonder if he was human or machine. Misha was a cousin to Kazimir, the Lion, though not by blood.
Their connection ran deeper than genetics. Their fathers had risen through the Bratva together, forged in the same violence, bound by the same code.
By rights, Misha should have inherited the throne. His father, Igor, had been the one in power. But when it came time to choose the next leader, there had been no question. Kazimir was the strongest.
The boldest.
The deadliest of their generation.
He'd taken the crown by sheer force of will, and no one—not even Misha—had challenged him.
