Page 22 of The Oyabun's Boy

"I don't want 'narrowed.'" My voice remained level, which everyone in the room knew was far more dangerous than shouting. "I want precise. The time for civility has expired."

Chen nodded once, sharp and efficient. "Understood,Oyabun."

I turned to the youngest analyst, a recent hire who'd impressed me with his hacking skills. His face drained of color as my gaze landed on him. "Kim."

"Sir," he replied, voice barely audible.

"Your specialty is digital tracking. I want every cell signal, every credit card transaction, every security camera within a mile radius of those three properties analyzed. You have one hour."

The boy swallowed hard. "That's not enough time to—"

I stepped closer, watching him shrink into his chair. "Is this where you tell me what I can and cannot have in my own house?"

"No, sir. One hour."

I turned away, already dismissing him from my thoughts. "The rest of you—I want every informant on our payroll contacted. Double their usual rate for anything concrete about my uncle's movements."

I picked up the nearest phone, punching in a number from memory. The line connected after one ring.

"It's me," I said, watching my men pretend not to eavesdrop. "The Tokyo problem requires immediate resolution. Authorization code black."

Black meant no witnesses, no survivors, no mercy.

I hung up, immediately dialing a second number. "Prepare the package for delivery. Standard protocol. Tonight."

The third call was shorter still. "Green light."

I set the receiver down gently, the small click louder than any gunshot in the silent room. Three calls. Twelve words in total. My uncle's death warrant, signed and expedited.

Family reunions were overrated anyway. Our last one had ended with him trying to gut me with our grandfather's ceremonial tanto. Japanese family traditions—so heartwarming.

I glanced at my watch—a Patek Philippe my father had given me the day before I killed him. The irony never failed to amuse me. It was past midnight. Joy had been alone for over three hours.

Unacceptable.

I had provided him with adequate security, of course. Two guards outside his door, another watching the security feed. But it wasn't enough. Not for him. Not for what was mine.

The thought of him alone in that room, perhaps awake and plotting some foolish escape, perhaps asleep and vulnerable... Something tightened in my chest—an unfamiliar sensation that I recognized, with distant irritation, as concern. Pathetic.

"Chen," I called, not bothering to look back as I headed for the door. "Continue operations. Update me when you have a precise location. Not before."

"Yes,Oyabun," he replied, his tone perfectly balanced between deference and efficiency.

As I left the command center, I felt it happening—the subtle shift. The armor I wore as Oyabun, the ruthless leader who had just casually ordered multiple deaths, loosened slightly with each step toward Joy's quarters.

My stride remained purposeful, my expression unchanged. To anyone watching, I was simply the boss completing his rounds. But inside, something was changing—rearranging itself around the existence of a green-eyed boy who had dared to laugh in my face.

It was dangerous, this softening. It was weakness.

And yet, I quickened my pace.

Power meant nothing if you had nothing to protect. I had built an empire of fear and blood, accumulating wealth andinfluence like others collected trinkets. But what was it for? Until I had seen Joy dancing in the rain that night, I had never questioned the purpose of my power.

Now I knew.

It was all for him. To keep him safe. To keep him mine.

The thought should have disgusted me. Instead, it settled into my bones with the certainty of truth.