Page 143 of The Dragon 1

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Bloodied.

Hurt.

Broken.

But alive.

Barely.

What happened inside hadn’t just changed the rules—it annihilated the board. Because I’d come to this hospital as my father’s son.

Bound by blood.

Still tethered to his lies of loyalty and legacy.

But now?

Now, I didn’t feel like a son anymore. I didn’t even feel like a man. I felt like a new monster, starved for vengeance, ready to bare his claws.

A dragon more than prepared to roar with tempered fire.

I left the hospital ready to become the very fucking myth that would end him.

Let the Fox cling to his throne.

Let him polish his oxygen mask like a crown.

I’d return.

And next time, I’d be bringing flames.

Chapter twenty-three

What Could Have Been

Kenji

The silence inside the Rolls-Royce was a tomb.

Only the soft, rhythmic hum of the engine dared to fill the space between us—smooth, unobtrusive, and a mockery of the chaos we’d just escaped.

Outside, Tokyo passed in soft, glittering streaks of gold and blue.

Inside, the air was suffocating with grief.

Right next to Reo, Hiro sat across from me, cradling Nura’s lifeless body in his arms. Blood still smeared her cheek. Her eyes—closed now by his hand—looked almost at peace.

But the bruise blooming under her jaw, the welt on her shoulder, the dried trails of tears down her face; they told the real story.

He hadn’t let go of her since we left.

Not once.

Reo watched me, speaking with his silent words.

Still, I could hear the message clearly.

Hiro isn’t going to be okay.

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