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)
The world narrowed to a single point of ice behind my ribs. In Kazimir’s mouth, “meet” didn’t mean dinner.
It meant acquisition.
Recruitment if she could be bought.
Coercion if she couldn’t.
Kidnapping and death if all else failed.
Men like him didn’t admire talent without deciding where it belonged—at their side, on their leash, or in the ground.
He knows about her.
The realization detonated in my chest.
I kept my expression frozen. "There's no one to meet."
“Hmmm.” Kazimir sighed. “I don’t know much about a dragon’s anatomy. Scales. Eyes. Fangs. Claws. Horns even. But what are the soft places on a dragon?”
I sneered. “There are none.”
"None?" Kazimir tilted his head. "Perhaps, soft places are easy to hide.”
“I would not know.”
“Me either, Kenji. But I do know that soft places have soft places of their own. Everywhere." His fingers twitched at his side. “Have you traveled much to the States?”
Reo was now closer to us. I could sense the readiness for battle radiating off him.
Careful, Roar. He’s only testing us for now.
“I’ve been to the States a few times, Kazimir."
“Such a big country with interesting cities. Historical ones. Charleston. New York City."
The ice behind my ribs spread to my spine.
He wasn't just talking about Nyomi anymore. He was talking about her blood. Her roots. The people she loved—people who had nothing to do with this world.
Misha had mapped her entire family.
Some of the Lion’s men drifted forward, sensing the shift in the air.
Kazimir raised one hand—casual, almost bored—and they stilled. "Relax. The Dragon and I are just. . .discussing anatomy."
His men didn't retreat.
Kazimir shrugged and looked back at me. "Forgive them. My men are always so hungry. Violence is food to their souls. And they haven't eaten in days."
Soul food. I caught that you piece of shit. You want to target my Tiger, Kazimir? Then, let’s fucking go. Right here. Right now.
My sneer must have told a clear story of violence because some of his men drifted forward.
“But back to your not having any soft places.” Kazimir quirked his brows. “Are you sure about this?”
"Just like I’m sure of one of my favorite proverbs.”
Kazimir leaned his head to the side.
“You’ve heard it. Curiosity killed the cat."
For one heartbeat—just one—rage flashed within those beastly eyes.
His men were close now.
But my Fangs and Scales had stepped forward too, mirroring their distance.
You hint at my Tiger again and I toss you into that fucking pyre and watch your skin melt off those cold Russian bones.
And then I would gladly fight my father and the damned Bratva, if only to make sure Nyomi was safe.
One word from Kazimir and this ended in blood.
We all waited.
And the pyre crackled.
And more smoke rose into the sky.
But he didn't give that word. Instead, he laughed—low and genuine, the sound rumbling up from somewhere deep in his massive chest. "There it is. There's the Dragon I came to see. Not the politician. Not the businessman. The monster."
"You haven't seen the monster yet. Pray you never do."
"Oh no, Dragon. That would be impossible. Gods don’t pray to anyone." He reached up and brushed a piece of ash from his shoulder. Slowly, Kazimir turned to face me fully, and the philosophical contemplation was gone from his expression. In its place was cruel hunger. "But you didn't invite me here to discuss philosophy.”
"I didn't invite you at all, Kazimir."
“Aww. Perhaps, you didn’t. But we can agree on one thing.”
“And what is that?”
“You are looking for your father.”
Fuck.
Chapter six
The Gift that Keeps on Taking
Kenji
Shock slammed in my chest so hard, I was surprised I didn’t lose my balance. Still, I had to seem calm and unaffected. “I am looking for my father.”
I heard subtle movement from my side and realized Reo had stepped back.
Amusement hit Kazimir’s face as he lifted one hand and gestured to his men.
What is this?
A huge Russian man stepped forward. Tall. Broad. Face like carved granite. He was carrying a folder—plain manila, unremarkable—and he handed it to Kazimir with the respect of a priest presenting a holy text.
Kazimir took the folder and held it between us. "Misha found your father’s location, and I must say. . .it is a very clever one. I doubt you will be able to find your father on your own."
I kept my expression neutral, but my pulse spiked, thundering in my ears.
"It’s all in this folder. The precise coordinates in Tokyo. Everything you need to end this war in a few hours. I have men who can assist. There would be no need for you to even get a single scratch on them."
The pyre crackled behind him. Ash drifted through the air, landing on the folder like gray snow. And I stared at it—at the answers I'd been searching for, the information that could end this war, save my people, destroy my father.
My chest tightened.
Calm down. Don’t be too eager. Remember. With these Russians, it is always going to be bigger than just criminal. There are our nations to think about.