Page 50 of The Oyabun's Boy

I ran my fingers absently over the scars on my arm, thinking of Kenji's body mapped with similar marks—each one a storyof violence survived, each one a reminder of someone who had tried to kill him and failed.

Would he survive this time? Was he even still alive?

My breathing became shallow, each intake of air insufficient to fill my lungs. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead and down my back. The room seemed to tilt slightly, reality shifting under the weight of my fear.

"We'll find him," Chen said, his voice cutting through the panic rising in my chest. "TheOyabunhas contingency plans for situations like this. He's prepared."

I looked up at Chen, searching his face for any sign that he was just saying this to calm me down. But despite the tension in his features, I saw something else there—genuine belief. Faith in Kenji's ability to survive. To overcome.

It helped, but only a little bit because I couldn't stop thinking about those scars—the puckered bullet wound on his shoulder, the jagged knife slash across his ribs, the burn mark on his lower back. Each one a record of pain endured. Each one a reminder of mortality.

"What can I do?" I asked, needing to feel useful, needing to do something other than sit here imagining the worst. "There must be something I can do to help find him."

Chen studied me for a long moment. "Stay here. Stay safe. That's what he would want."

"Bullshit," I snapped, standing up so quickly that Chairman Meow startled from his spot on the bed. "I'm not just going to sit here while he's out there somewhere, possibly hurt or—" I couldn't finish the sentence, the possibility too horrific to voice.

"You're a civilian," Chen reminded me, his tone sharpening. "You have no training, no experience in these matters. You would be a liability in the field."

I knew he was right, but that didn't make it any easier to accept. The helplessness threatened to overwhelm me.

"Then give me something. Anything. Let me help somehow."

Chen seemed to consider this, his expression calculating. "Perhaps there is something," he said finally. "TheOyabun'scommand center receives feeds from all our surveillance systems. Someone needs to monitor them, looking for any sign of him or unusual activity in our territories."

It wasn't much, but it was something. A way to feel connected to the search, to feel like I was doing something productive instead of just spiraling into panic.

"I can do that," I said quickly. "I'll watch every screen, every feed."

Chen nodded once, decision made. "I'll have it set up. But you should know," he added, his voice lowering, "what we might find may not be... pleasant."

The implication was clear. If they found Kenji on those surveillance feeds, he might be injured. Tortured. Worse.

I swallowed hard, steeling myself against the possibilities. "I understand."

As Chen turned to leave, presumably to make arrangements, a thought struck me with paralyzing clarity. What if Kenji was out there right now, adding new scars to his collection? What if he was fighting for his life while I stood here talking about surveillance feeds?

Or worse—what if he'd already lost that fight?

The thought sent a shudder through me so violent that I had to grip the edge of the bed to steady myself. My heart raced, pounding in my ears like war drums. Each breath came faster than the last, never quite satisfying the burning in my lungs.

"We'll find him," Chen repeated from the doorway, his voice gentler than I'd ever heard it. "TheOyabunis not easy to kill."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. As Chen left to make the arrangements, I sank back onto the bed, running trembling fingers through Chairman Meow's fur for comfort.

"Please be alive," I whispered into the empty room. "Please."

Dawn crept over the city like a hesitant visitor, painting the sky in muted oranges and pinks that seemed obscenely beautiful given the horror of the night.

I'd been sitting in Kenji's command chair for hours, his leather jacket draped over my shoulders like armor, its collar pulled up so I could breathe in his lingering scent—sandalwood, gunpowder, and something uniquely him that made my chest ache with longing and fear.

Across from me, security feeds from all over New York flickered on multiple screens, each one a potential lifeline to Kenji, each one so far showing nothing but the indifferent rhythm of a city unaware that its most dangerous predator had become prey.

Chairman Meow had settled in my lap, his warmth and steady purring the only thing keeping me from completely unraveling. I stroked his soft fur mechanically, my eyes burning from hours of unblinking vigilance, scanning each screen for any glimpse of the man who had kidnapped me—protected me—claimed me.

Chen had patched through what felt like hundreds of camera feeds to this room—traffic cameras, security feeds from Kenji's businesses, even some that I suspected weren't exactly legal to access.

The screens changed every few minutes, showing new locations, new angles, new slices of city life that didn't include the one face I desperately needed to see.