Page 132 of The Dragon 1

We stepped inside.

Reo pressed the button for the top floor; the suite level, where high-level patients were treated in silence and secrecy.

As the elevator rose, so did my pulse.

I sighed. “If we had people following Hiro, then how did my father’s men get him?”

Reo frowned. “Hiro noticed our men tailing him and told them they might scare Nura so they had to back off. Said if they didn’t stop following, he’d slit their throats.”

My pulse spiked. “And they listened?”

“They did. Left him alone.”

“Then, my father got to him.”

Reo nodded once. “Two hours after our people left Hiro alone, your father called and said Hiro was with him.”

I looked up at the elevator ceiling, fury rippling just beneath the surface of my skin. The rage wasn’t just for what my father had done.

It was for what he’dinterrupted.

That quiet date.

That flicker of healing Hiro never chased for himself.

All snatched away because the man in the hospital bed couldn’t stand the idea of not being worshipped.

You fucking bastard.

The thought of Hiro—snatched like prey, restrained somewhere in that hospital while my father sharpened his plans—boiled something brutal inside me.

And Nura?

What had she seen? What had she felt?

Did she understand the danger she would be in, simply for being near him?

The elevator pinged.

The doors slid open.

I clenched my fists and stepped out, ready to burn the night down if I had to.

Ten men flanked the hallway. Armed. Disguised as orderlies and security but their postures were too stiff. They weren’t here to assist. They were here to warn.

Each of them bore the pin of the Fox—a black enamel fox mask inset with gold leaf, eyes narrowed into slits. My father’s symbol.

His mark.

Reo and I moved in silence down the hall. The air grew colder with each step.

When we made it to the last door on the right, a tall, grim-looking man I recognized as Goro stepped forward and opened it for us.

I stepped inside, ready for the usual performance—clinical lighting, the faint scent of disinfectant, my father half-shadowed in silk robes and oxygen tubes.

But what I walked into. . .

What I saw. . .