The label was understated—no gaudy crest, no screaming gold—because true wealth never needed to announce itself.
I’d acquired it years ago through a private broker in Kyoto who dealt only in things that couldn’t be replaced once they were gone.
Rin poured with care, and the amber liquid caught the light in a molten topaz waterfall. Then, settled into the glass.
I spoke before Rin turned back. “Pour me one too.”
Rin paused only long enough to acknowledge the order, then poured a second glass.
I caught Satoshi's jaw tighten at the sight of the whiskey. The man only drank milk—even in rooms still slick with blood—and I'd watched him shatter a man's cheekbone for joking about it once. He didn't like alcohol or when we all drank, but this morning he said nothing.
I directed my attention to Reo, who was doing a decent job of guarding his agony.
This was the dance.
Reo needed something for the pain but wouldn’t reveal that. He was the Roar. He had to be strong and focused. Therefore, he would take a small sip of whiskey—just enough to take the edge off the impact of my fist and also to keep his body from stiffening when we visited the Lion.
Too much would slow his reflexes.
Too little would show his flinching through the pain.
And I wouldn’t have him look odd in front of my men.
Or worse—weak for drinking so early and by himself.
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.
