Page 64 of Siren's Gift

This was the final stand.

Ichiro moved first, a blur of motion as he closed the distance between us. His fist came at me with the force of a battering ram.

But I was ready. I dodged to the side, my body flowing with the enhanced agility of my dragon’s spirit. Ichiro’s fist grazed my shoulder. I felt the searing heat of his touch, but I didn’t let it slow me down.

I countered with a strike aimed at his midsection. He blocked with a forearm, his skin hardened like mine. Sparks flew as our claws met. The impact battered through my bones. I launched a barrage of punches and kicks, each one fueled by years of pent-up rage.

This man had stolen my childhood and beaten me senseless too many times to count. He turned me into a killer—a monster just like him.

Eager to please my grandfather while growing up, I’d committed crimes too heinous to speak. Atrocities against Gifted and non-Gifted alike. I’d sold my soul to the Devil long ago for a chance to take Ichiro down, and now I would collect what was mine.

Only one of us would walk out of here alive, or neither of us. If I were bound for Hell today, I'd make sure he was at my side.

Ichiro’s experience showed in every fluid move as he matched me blow for blow. He was a master of martial arts. His style a brutal, efficient blend of strikes designed to cripple and kill. But I was younger, faster, and driven by something more than skill. I was driven by the need to protect those I loved.

Above us, the dragons clashed, their fiery bodies colliding in a spectacular display of power. Each time they struck, the air crackled with energy and a burst of flames, and the floor beneath us trembled. Jou’s thoughts mirrored my own, his eagerness to tear Ichiro’s dragon apart as fierce as my desire to end the man before me.

Ichiro feinted left and spun low. His leg swept towards mine.

I jumped, but he expected it. Pain exploded in my side as his fist connected with my ribs. I staggered back, gasping for breath.

He was on me in an instant, his fist connecting with my chest.

The force of the blow sent me crashing against a wall, and the impact knocked the wind out of me. I staggered sideways, vision swimming. I heard my dragon roar in pain as Pomï clamped his jaws around Jou’s neck, the flames intensifying.

I struggled to my feet. Blood dripped from various wounds. Every breath was a sharp, agonizing reminder of my limits.

But I wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t. Not until Ichiro was on the ground, beaten and broken. As lifeless as Kenzo.

I ignored the pain and surged forward, channeling every ounce of my strength into a single, devastating punch aimed at his head.

Ichiro caught my wrist. His grip was like iron. As his eyes burned into mine, I saw the anger and resentment that had been brewing in him for years, chipping away at his soul.

"You’re weak, Dominic," he hissed, twisting my arm with a force that made my bones creak in protest. "You’ll always be weaker than me, thanks to your father. You can thank him when you join him in Hell."

I wrenched my arm free and threw a wild, desperate punch. It connected with his jaw, and he stepped back.

He recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing as he wiped the blood from his mouth. "Pathetic," he spat, then he was on me again, faster and more vicious than before. He slammed me into the ground and pinned me. His claws dug into my throat, cutting off my air.

“Rin was most helpful confirming my suspicions about you.” Ichiro grinned as my expression betrayed my disbelief. There was no way Rin would have talked. “Oh, he tried to resist, which was quite enjoyable to witness and made for a remarkable photograph. But I learned long ago to keep a witch capable of mind control close and paid well.”

His dragon loomed above us, his jaws wide and ready to strike. Jou was trapped in his hold like I was. His flames flickered weakly as he struggled in vain against the crushing force of Ichiro’s will.

My grandfather leaned in close, his breath hot against my face. "This is where it ends, Dominic. You die here beneath my hands, just like your father did."

Just like my father…?

His words sent a jolt of shock through me. My father had died in a robbery gone wrong. That was what Ichiro had told me when I was just a kid and attending the funeral. I’d never questioned it. I’d never had a reason to. A man rotted in prison for the crime, having pled guilty. My father had just been unlucky that day.

That’s what I’d believed for over twenty years.

Only now, once Ichiro had the upper hand,nowhe came clean?

The fucking coward.

Ichiro grinned as he saw the understanding on my face. "That’s right, boy. Your father’s death was no accident. I only wish I’d killed him before he ruined my Fumiko with his weak seed."

“Why?” I choked out.

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