Page 58 of The Oyabun's Boy

Through a tear in his shirt, I could see the unmistakable pattern of knife wounds—methodical, deliberate cuts that spoke of torture rather than combat.

His right shoulder sat at an unnatural angle, clearly dislocated. His breathing was shallow and wet, each inhale accompanied by a rattling sound that screamed of broken ribs and punctured lungs.

"I'm going to be sick,"I thought, but forced the nausea down.

Kenji didn't need my weakness now.

"They got pissy when I wouldn’t stick around," Kenji rasped, his one good eye fixed on my face with frightening intensity despite his condition. A bubble of blood formed at the corner of his mouth and burst as he spoke. “Had to make sure you were safe.”

I choked on a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. Even now, half-dead and bleeding all over his custom marble floor, he was worried about his security protocols.

"Shut up," I begged, tears streaming unchecked down my face. "Just shut up and focus on breathing, okay? Help is coming."

His mangled hand somehow found mine, his grip weak, but insistent. "I'm...home," he said, the simple words carrying a weight that crushed what remained of my composure.

Home. Not safe, not okay, not even alive. Home. As if my presence was all that mattered, all he had fought to return to.

I pressed his bloodied knuckles to my cheek, not caring that his blood smeared across my skin, mingling with my tears in a macabre baptism. "Yes," I promised, my voice thick with emotion. "You're home. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Behind me, Chen's voice cut through the fog of my grief, sharp and commanding as he barked orders into his phone. "Medical team to the private office. Now. Full trauma protocol. And get theOyabun'spersonal physician."

I barely registered the words, my world narrowed to the broken man before me and the labored rise and fall of his chest that was the only proof he was still alive.

"Don't you dare die," I whispered fiercely against his hand. "Don't you dare. Not after you kidnapped me and made me fall in love with you and gave me my cat and..." I broke off, choking on tears. "Not after I've seen what they did to make you like this."

His eye widened fractionally at my inadvertent confession, then softened in a way I'd seen only in our most intimate moments.

"Not...dying," he managed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth with the effort of speaking. "Too stubborn."

I laughed through my tears, the sound watery and thin. "Yeah, you are. Stubborn as hell."

The corner of his mouth that wasn't split open twitched in what might have been an attempt at a smile. "Princess," he murmured, the endearment slurred but unmistakable.

"I'm here," I repeated, stroking his hair back from his forehead, careful to avoid the worst of his wounds. "I'm right here. I saw the files, Kenji. I saw what they did to you. When you were just a little boy."

Something flickered in his expression—shame, maybe, or vulnerability—before he closed his good eye briefly. "Not...your concern."

"The hell it isn't," I snapped, surprising both of us with the vehemence in my voice. "Everything about you is my concern now. You made it my concern when you dragged me into your life."

The distant sound of running footsteps announced the approach of the medical team. Chen moved to the door, gun still drawn, taking no chances even now.

"Let them help you," I pleaded, trying to pull my hand from Kenji's to make room for the doctors.

His fingers tightened around mine with surprising strength given his condition. "Stay," he commanded, though the word was barely audible.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promised again. "But you need to let the doctors work."

The medical team burst into the room—three men and a woman in scrubs, wheeling equipment I didn't want to examine too closely. They surrounded Kenji with practiced efficiency, their voices overlapping as they called out observations.

"Multiple lacerations... dislocated shoulder... suspected internal bleeding... broken ribs, possibly punctured lung..."

I tried again to extract my hand from Kenji's to give them space, but his grip remained iron despite his injuries. One of the doctors looked at me questioningly.

"Sir, we need to—"

"The hand stays," Chen interrupted from the doorway, his tone making it clear this wasn't up for debate.

The doctor hesitated, then nodded, working around our joined hands as they inserted IVs, applied pressure bandages, and stabilized his neck.