Page 2 of The Dragon 2 (Tokyo Empire #2)

Chapter one

Strategy

Kenji

My private jet hummed like a sleeping beast—quiet, expensive, engineered for men like me who needed altitude to plot blood.

I sat at the long obsidian table in the center of the jet. Unfurled before me were the blueprints of Tokyo—not the tourist gloss, not the skyline sold on postcards, but its criminal underworld’s bones.

Every district I personally owned was marked with jagged neon blue ink:

The Ashen Blocks —where burnt-out buildings hid underground arms trades and old money whispered in abandoned temples.

Ironport —once a shipping district, now a gate of illegal imports, organ traffickers, and chemical caches buried beneath rusted docks and ramen joints that never close.

The Velvet Quarter —a playground for elite depravity. Secret, red-soaked brothels, glass-box voyeur clubs, and auction floors where innocence was sold to the highest bidder.

And now, the ones my father still owned:

Kurokawa Strip —a slick, black artery of assassins, debt collectors, and contract killers with gunpowder tattoos and no last names.

Shinjuku Thirteen —not on any map. A hidden ward of thirteen blocks where even the police didn’t go. Where body bags left through the sewers.

The Pale Gate —his oldest territory. A ghost city layered in shrines and slaughterhouses. There, whispers of the Fox still ruled. There, his word was gospel and his punishment biblical.

Every pin on the map marked a different kind of power.

But I believed that every color was a future grave.

Because this wasn’t just a hostile takeover.

This was a war between a Fox and a Dragon.

My father—the Fox—had ruled Tokyo with clever cruelty for decades. Foxes were known for deception, illusion, and misdirection. They whispered lies like lullabies and slit throats while you slept.

But me?

I wasn’t built for stealth. I was born with scales. I breathed heat. My instincts weren’t to hide or outthink.

They were to scorch.

Foxes played chess.

Dragons burned the board.

Across from me, Reo leaned over the eastern edge of the map, tracing a sharp neon blue line with his gloved finger.

“On the day we officially declare war with your father. . .I think we should secure the perimeter around Ironport before midnight and cut off the distribution channel. That way we guarantee two things: silence in the ports and panic on the Strip.”

Behind him, Kaoru stood with a sleek black tablet, his long pink hair tied back in a low ponytail. Real-time surveillance flickered across the screen—my father’s known locations, convoy patterns, and weapon transfers.

“The Fox is still rotating guards through The Pale Gate every two hours. He’s very nervous, but I don’t think he suspects what will happen.

” Kaoru shifted to another screen. “But his usual convoy to Shinjuku Thirteen has been reduced. He’s consolidating.

It may mean that he definitely knows we’re coming. ”

“Or he’s simply safeguarding his prized possessions.” Yoichi, my Haiku Sniper, sat languidly with his bald head tilted back, silver wolf tooth charm glinting against his open designer jacket.

“We must be careful. Your father has gone to war four times and won all of them.” Yoichi trailed smoke from his clove cigarette, watching the map like it was a cherry blossom about to fall. “Meanwhile. . .war is new to us.”

Across from him, Rin—my Silent Poison—stood in ghostly white, tall and unreadable. His braided ponytail fell to his waist. “Still, we could take many out without bullets. I have something special I’ve been working on. A gas that could kill a large group of people with just one inhale.”

Reo shook his head. “Gas can’t guarantee innocents are safe.”

Rin shrugged. “We can make sure the building is cleared of innocents and only full of our enemies.”

“And what of the bugs, the rodents, and the cats possibly hiding within the space?”

Rin chuckled. “I think the rodents can take their chances.”

“But that’s the problem,” Reo’s tone became sharper. “You say that as if they aren’t real lives.”

“They’re not,” Rin said simply, glancing down at the map. “Not in the way we are. Not in the way that matters. Pest. Food. Predator. That’s the hierarchy.”

Reo leaned back slightly. “You sound like my father.”

That made Rin pause.

Reo’s voice dropped. “He once let an entire building collapse because he believed everyone inside was beneath him. Including the janitor. The pregnant woman. The girl hiding behind a desk with headphones in. Just background noise to him. Vermin.”

“We’re not talking about innocent people, Reo.” Rin countered. “We’re talking about animals. We’re talking about war. And war is not a clean thing.”

“No, it’s not.” Reo’s voice held no illusions. “But if we become so numb that we no longer care who chokes on our ambition, then we are no better than the men we’re trying to replace.”

Yoichi blew out a plume of smoke that curled into the dim light. “The philosopher awakens.”

But Reo didn’t flinch. He looked right at Rin. “I’m not saying we don’t kill. I’m saying we choose who. Precisely. Surgically. Without casualties that don’t deserve it.”

Rin tilted his head. “So, we must save the animals?”

“Yes,” Reo scowled at him. “Because sometimes it’s the cat hiding under the stairwell that a dying woman meets and now her day is brightened.

And sometimes it’s the stray dog who leads a child to safety or protects her even.

You don’t get to play God with the entire building just because the target’s inside. ”

For a moment, there was silence around the table.

Only the sound of the jet engine hummed.

Then, slowly, Rin gave a nod. “You win this round, Reo.”

“I’m not here to win.” Reo returned his attention to the map. “I’m here to make sure we don’t burn the wrong world down.”

Several seats near Reo sat Satoshi with a glass of milk in his hand. He didn’t speak, just cracked his knuckles one at a time as if each pop were a countdown to someone’s execution.

In the rear lounge, the Claws flanked a silent Hiro, who hadn’t spoken since we picked him up. Daisuke told me that they had buried Nura’s body but he would not say where or how.

Hiro’s face was stone but his fists were bloodless from clenching too long.

Sighing, I tried to focus on the map again.

On the Ashen Blocks.

On The Pale Gate.

On the pins I’d placed—promises of war.

However, my hand hesitated over Ironport.

Not because of strategy.

But because of her.

Nyomi and that kiss I took from her willing mouth. I could still feel the shape of her lips pressed into my bottom one, the taste of her breath still lingering like plum and thunder.

She’d given me a precious gift that night—silk threaded with quiet power—that I still had tucked within my jacket’s secret pocket and right next to my heart.

She was under my skin, in my bloodstream, pressed between the pages of every war plan I tried to read. And no matter how sharp the strategy or how brutal the path—my thoughts kept finding their way back to her.

Reo looked up at me. “Kenji.”

I frowned.

“What do you think?”

They all waited for my word.

Then. . .my phone buzzed.

The moment I saw her name everything else dropped away.

I rose from my seat. “I have to take this.”

Reo quirked his brows. “Who is it?”

“My Tiger.”

Reo’s expression flickered from business to something warmer. A knowing smile spread across his face. “Then we should let the men rest. We’ll return to the plans after we land.”

I nodded once, stood, and then pressed the phone to my ear. “Tora?”

Silence.

My heart—trained for gunfire—skipped a beat.

“Tora. Are you okay? Are you in danger?” My voice was already changing; deepening, tightening. I looked to the back of the plane, calculating how fast we could turn this jet around. If necessary, I’d make sure the damned pilot had us back in Tokyo in under two hours.

I’d rain hell if I had to. “Tora?”

Her voice was shaky. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late.”

“Are you okay?”

“God yes.”

My body calmed.

“This is. . .crazy, but. . .I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Relief swept through me.

My grip on the phone softened.

Heading back to my private suite on the plane, I exhaled. “Good. I’m glad you’re okay. And anytime you want to call me to hear my voice, you can. I don’t give a damn if I’m asleep or busy.”

“I hope I didn’t wake you.”

I got to the room, opened the door, stepped inside, and then shut the door behind me. “Don’t worry, Tora. I haven’t slept yet.”

“Oh. When do you plan to go to sleep?”

I glanced at my watch, though time meant nothing tonight. “I’m not sure yet.”

She went quiet.

I sat on my king-sized bed and scanned the space, wishing she were here.

Soft golden lighting spilled from custom insets along the ceiling.

One wall held a built-in shelf of rare books—first editions bound in worn leather.

Another housed a temperature-controlled drawer of cigars, though I rarely smoked them.

There was a glass decanter on the floating console, half full of 50-year Yamazaki Whisky, untouched.

To my left, the bathroom—a cathedral of as much opulence as one could put on a jet. Polished stone floors that shimmered. A rainfall shower carved from black marble. Heated towel racks. A vanity of matte gold. My toothbrush monogrammed. My razors arranged in military precision.

Her voice disrupted my thoughts. “Why haven’t you slept? Has it been that big of an emergency?”

“Yes.” My voice dropped low. “So big that I was going to call you later and cancel our date for this evening.”

A beat passed.

I gritted my teeth.

“Oh. . .” She whispered. “Well. . .I understand.”

“Do you?”

“Of course.”

“I hope so because I only want to be with you. Next to you. Kissing you again. I loved the taste of your mouth. I loved your body soft against mine.”

She inhaled sharply. “Fuck. . .”

The beast—that dragon inside me yearned not for war, but for her. I thought of what she had just said several seconds earlier.

“This is. . .crazy, but. . .I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Her words lingered long after she said them.

I rose from my bed. “Why did you really call me?”

Her breath hitched. “I told you.”

“Yeah, but. . .there’s more to the story.”

To my surprise, a soft, nervous chuckle slipped from her. It wasn’t embarrassed. It was hesitant joy. And God. . .that sound? That sound could probably make me cum.

My body hummed. “Tell me what you’re laughing at so I can laugh too.”

I stepped away from the bed and walked to the tall window.

My jet was fast. Tokyo was far behind me now. Stars bled along the horizon—silver shards scattered across a black ocean sky.

She hesitated.

Then, in a voice barely louder than a secret, she said. “Well… I had a dream about you. And I pretty much just woke up from it.”

My breath deepened.

My body pulsed.

What did my naughty Tiger dream about? And would she tell me?