Page 49 of The Oyabun's Boy

If this wasn't an emergency, I didn't know what was.

I hovered my thumb over the call button, hesitating. What if I was overreacting? What if Kenji was fine and I was about to make a fool of myself in front of his second-in-command?

But as the minute ticked over to 1:16 AM, I realized I didn't care about looking foolish. I only cared about Kenji being safe.

I pressed Chen's number and held my breath as the phone rang. Once. Twice. My heart hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape. By the third ring, I was certain he wouldn't answer—that I'd have to face this growing dread alone—when suddenly the line clicked open.

"Where are you?" Chen's voice came through, clipped and professional but with an undercurrent of tension I'd never heard from him before. Not "Hello" or "What do you want?" but "Where are you?"—as if my location was suddenly the most important piece of information in the world.

"I'm in Kenji's quarters," I answered, my own voice sounding distant to my ears. "Chairman Meow is with me. Chen, I can't reach Kenji. I've been calling for hours and—"

"Stay there," he cut me off. "I'm coming to you."

The line went dead before I could respond. I stared at my phone in disbelief, the knot in my stomach twisting tighter. Chen never interrupted people. His manners were impeccable to the point of being unnerving. If he was cutting me off mid-sentence, something was very, very wrong.

I paced the room while waiting, Chairman Meow tracking my movements with worried green eyes. The minutes crawled by like hours until finally, a sharp knock at the door made me jump.

Chen entered without waiting for a response, his usually immaculate appearance slightly disheveled—tie loosened, hair mussed as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. The sight sent a fresh wave of fear through me.

"When did you last hear from him?" Chen demanded, no preamble, no pretense of calm.

"This afternoon, before he left for his meeting," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. "Around two o'clock. He said he'd be back tonight, that tonight would be... ours." The last word came out smaller, more vulnerable than I intended.

Chen's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes hardened. "He missed three check-ins," he said, the admission clearly difficult for him. "We've activated emergency protocols."

The words hung between us, heavy with unspoken danger. My blood turned to ice as I processed what this meant. Three check-ins. Kenji—meticulous, precise Kenji—had missed three scheduled reports.

And "emergency protocols" sounded ominously like something you only activated when things had gone catastrophically wrong.

"What does that mean?" I asked, fighting to keep my voice level. "What are emergency protocols?"

Chen assessed me with calculating eyes, clearly weighing how much to share. I stood straighter, meeting his gaze with what I hoped was a look that conveyed I wasn't going to be brushed aside or placated with half-truths.

"It means we're operating under the assumption that theOyabunhas been compromised," Chen said finally. "All assets have been mobilized. Our network of informants has been activated. Safe houses are being checked. Surveillance footage from across the city is being reviewed."

I sank onto the edge of Kenji's bed, my legs suddenly unable to support my weight. "Compromised," I echoed, the euphemism doing nothing to soften the blow. "You mean taken.” I swallowed tightly. “Or killed."

Chen's jaw tightened. "We don't know that yet. We're following protocol."

"What was the meeting? Who was he meeting with?" The questions tumbled out as my mind raced to make sense of this nightmare.

"That information is classified," Chen replied automatically, then seemed to reconsider. His expression softened fractionally. "But I can tell you it was supposed to be a routine discussion with the Petrov family about shipping routes. Nothing high-risk."

"Petrov," I repeated, remembering the scarred man from the meeting who had offered to send me chocolate vodka. "The Russian?"

Chen nodded once. "Dmitri Petrov has already been questioned. He claims theOyabunnever arrived for their meeting."

My stomach dropped further. If Kenji had never even made it to his meeting, that meant he'd been taken somewhere between here and there. Hours ago.

"How long?" I whispered, already dreading the answer. "How long has he been missing?"

"Based on his last known location and the time of his first missed check-in..." Chen hesitated. "Approximately ten hours."

Ten hours. My mind immediately filled with images of what could happen to someone in seven hours. Torture. Interrogation. Pain. Death. And Kenji, with his position and the information he held, would be a prime target for any number of enemies.

"Who would take him?" I asked, my mouth dry. "His uncle?"

Something dangerous flashed in Chen's eyes. "It's a possibility we're exploring. TheOyabun'suncle has made previous attempts on his life, but there are other factions who would benefit from his removal."