Page 133 of The Dragon 1

My entire body locked down with rage and horror.

God no! Why father?! Why?!

Chapter twenty-one

The Fox’s Lesson

Kenji

The first thing I registered was Hiro.

He was restrained. Sixmen held him down across a stainless-steel gurney. One at each limb. His wrists were handcuffed to the metal frame.

Blood streaked from his lip, smeared across his jaw like war paint.

One eye was nearly swollen shut.

A seventh man stood over him with his gun drawn and barrel pressed to Hiro’s temple.

But that wasn’t what broke me.

That wasn’t the horror.

It was on the other side of the room.

My father lay reclined in his hospital bed—machine tubes snaking in and out of him, his skin paper-thin, his face the color of parchment soaked in sake.

Oxygen hissed rhythmically.

A monitor blinked behind him.

A dying god clawing for one last worship.

In his withered, jeweled fingers held a chain.

Long.

Gleaming.

Iron.

And at the end of that chain—kneeling on the floor, naked, bruised, and weeping—was Nura.

My breath caught in my throat.

No.

Her dark brown skin was mottled in purple and red bruises. A fresh welt bloomed across her collarbone. Her knees shook, pressed against cold tile. Her head was bowed but I could see the curve of her cheek stained with tears.

No. No. No.

Two men stood beside her with their guns drawn. One pointed at her temple. The other at her throat.

Her clothes were scattered across the floor in shreds—her top torn in half, panties tangled near the door, her shoes on opposite sides of the room like they’d been kicked off in struggle.

Her shoulders trembled as if her body couldn’t figure out whether to cry or collapse.

I blinked once.