Page 85 of Wrathful King

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “A girl, Dante. If it was Phoenix, she had a little girl with her, so make sure you add that to your search profile.”

“I don’t care for redheads,” he muttered and I could sense an oncoming headache. “A child?” His delayed reaction aggravated me. “She better not have gotten married,” he gritted, his voice flaring with annoyance. “She’ll be a widow faster than she can saybang.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions. The last thing we need is you making a mess here. Your mission is simple: find Phoenix and get out. Keep it clean, brother.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to think? Phoenix with a little girl?”

“Think about finding her.”

“I’m going to murder—”

I cut him off before he could finish that statement. “You know, maybe you should worry about me murdering your crazy ass. She’s my half sister after all.”

He completely ignored me, and I took it to mean he was lost in his own world. “She better not be living with a man either.”

“I swear, Dante. Your obsession with Phoenix worries me.”

He scoffed. “Well, aren’t you the pot calling the kettle black.”

I recalled what he’d said three years ago. That she seemed familiar to him. “Remember when you said she looked familiar to you?” He hummed his answer. “Ever figure it out?”

“No, but I will,” he answered with conviction. “And she’s going to help me.”

“Don’t fucking dare hurt Phoenix when you find her.”

“I don’t beat women,” he answered, indignant. “I’m not Father.”

“I know you’d never hit a woman. It’s your obsessive nature I’m worried about. It’s obvious she’d prefer to keep to herself.”

“No, she wouldn’t prefer that. She wants to be my wife. She’s just stubborn and refuses to admit it.”

“If you say so,” I remarked wryly. I certainly wouldn’t be the one to tell him there might be some delusion going on there.

“Do you think she’s living with a man?”

“How in the fuck should I know?”

“Well, you’re her brother now,” he grumbled. “Shouldn’t you know what she’s doing?” I groaned inwardly but didn’t comment. “Whatever man she might be living with, I’ll cut his balls off.”

I reached for my glass of cognac, throwing both fingers back in one go and savoring the burn. “Since when are you such a chauvinist?”

He let out a dark laugh. The warning kind. The kind that reminded me of Ghost when he prepared to pull the teeth out of his victims’ mouths.

“Never mind me and my ways, anything about Hiroshi?” I noticed he didn’t ask about Mother.

“No, nothing.”

“Maybe he’s dead already?” he suggested.

I let out a dry breath. “I doubt it. Hiroshi is a sneaky bastard and death won’t find him by accident. He’ll have to be outsmarted.”

“More like he’s been stabbing everyone in the back, starting with your ojisan.”

“And there’s that,” I agreed. “It just pisses me off that I didn’t see it sooner.”

I’d had a lot of space to think over the past weeks about the signs that went unnoticed for years, and I was starting to see with clear eyes. His push to strike Itsuki, even eliminating the heads of the Yakuza syndicate. He claimed he was against flesh trading, but he never tried to do anything to stop it. Not with Ojisan, and certainly not with my cousin.

And then there was the way he hovered around my mother. I had attributed it to his love for her, but now I wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t the type to stand on the sidelines. He would have been demanding she get divorced and marry him if that were the case.