Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
If I failed, I wasn’t just useless. I would be a fucking ornament. A warm body. A little fuck toy. A gilded caged bird—fed on kisses but stripped of any real purpose.
But if I passed?
I became his secret weapon. Necessary. A woman he could not go to war without.
Not a mistress.
Not a shadow.
Not a body waiting in bed while the real decisions happened elsewhere.
I would be sharpened into something lethal—an edge only Kenji could claim, a blade that gleamed because I was his Tiger. I imagined it—walking into a room, silence rising, men pausing not for him, but for me. Heads turning because my presence carried its own weight.
Respect not borrowed.
Respect carved into bone.
Where killers with blood under their nails would hesitate before they spoke.
That was the future I wanted.
No. . .craved.
I stood there in my robe, steadying my breaths.
Reo’s pen hovered over his notebook.
Kenji’s warmth burned at my side. His hand was a firm weight at my waist. “Let’s begin, Tora.”
Reo clicked the top of his pen. “The two minute timer starts each time they finish saying their three statements.”
I nodded.
Kaoru stepped forward first. He tucked a few pink strands behind his ear. His voice came out flat, smooth, and dangerous. “I’ve killed two hundred and thirteen men.”
What?
I stiffened.
He did not blink.
Okay. What’s the next statement?
Kaoru lifted his chin a fraction and continued with his voice in the same steady cadence. “I have three girlfriends who know about each other.”
His mouth didn’t twitch, but his eyes did—a quick flick toward me, fast like a gambler checking a rival’s stack.
“And. . .” His mouth curved into a sweet smile. “I am addicted to karaoke.”
Hmmm.
Reo’s pen clicked again. “Two minutes. Begin. Ask your questions if you have them.”
I breathed in, letting my eyes run the perimeter of Kaoru’s body the way I would trace the edges of a crime photo.
The Dragon’s rules beat in my head like a metronome: three statements. One lie. Ask one question for each. They must tell the truth. No touching.
Kenji’s fingers flexed at my waist like he could hear my thoughts.
I kept my voice calm. “Your first statement was two hundred and thirteen kills. Do you remember your first and last kill?”
“I do.” Kaoru tipped his head. “The first was a man named Uesugi. It happened in a Shinjuku alley behind a hostess bar.”
No hesitation.
No flourish.
“Last was a broker who sold the Dragon’s docks. It happened in a private house in Osaka.”
The answer landed without fanfare.
Even more, the fact that he remembered the number, down to the last digit, made my skin prickle.
From what I understood about psychopaths—and that was mainly book knowledge—after a while. . .they tended to lose count after a hundred. Violence blurred into bloody haze.
But Kaoru?
If he were telling the truth. . .then that would mean that every death mattered to him. He wasn’t boasting. He was recording. Each name logged, each place etched. It was all a private ledger he kept within his soul and he was a man fingering beads on a rosary, but each bead was a body.
Still, the number chilled me.
Reo clicked his pen, reminding me of the time.
I cleared my throat. “Statement two: you have three girlfriends who know about each other.”
I didn’t have a question yet, but I let my gaze travel over him.
Clothes, tattoos, jewelry, people thought they were just fashion. But they were language. Choices we made about what to stitch into our skin or drape across our bodies said more than any words ever could.
A man could lie with his mouth, but his body would betray him.
What one wore was a story that person wanted the world to believe.
What one inked into their flesh was a story that person could never erase.
And Kaoru’s story was written right there—his immaculate suit hugging him like armor, his long pink hair daring the world to underestimate him, and two small hearts inked just under his jawline and connecting to black roses and bullets.
Wait a minute. Two hearts. Not three.
Granted, it would be a big assumption that the hearts represented women. I just couldn’t think why else he would put hearts on his neck like that, right next to bullets.
I leaned in slightly and realized he had two piercings on his left ear too—a diamond stud and a ruby.
Almost like. . .two women were leaving their claim on his ear.
But again. . .not three.
Big assumptions still. . .but what else did I have.
I put my view back on his face. “Question.”
Kaoru smiled at me. “Yes.”
“How many girlfriends do you have?”
Kaoru’s attention cut to Kenji for a heartbeat and then he quickly looked back at me. “Three.”
Hmmm. Looked away from me that time. Interesting. That could be the lie.
“Statement three: you have an addiction to karaoke.” I let myself smirk. “Question. What’s your favorite song to sing?”
Kaoru’s answer came fast. “X Japan’s ‘Endless Rain.’”