Chapter 45
Chapter forty-five
A Prison for Burning
Kenji
Enough.
The word burned through my skull as I descended the stone steps into the prison beneath my mansion.
Enough with the snakes.
Enough with the betrayal.
Enough with decades of my father's poison seeping into every corner of my world while I was too blind to see it.
Enough.
With fire in mind, I had designed this prison with Reo.
The walls were reinforced concrete coated in heat-resistant ceramic tile—the same material used in industrial furnaces.
The floor sloped toward drains that fed into an underground filtration system.
Massive ventilation shafts lined the ceiling, engineered to pull smoke and the stench of burning flesh up and out before it could choke the air.
No windows.
No natural light.
Just harsh fluorescent bulbs that cast everything in a clinical, haunting glow.
This was where enemies came to burn.
This was where traitors came to scream.
And tonight, four people I had cared for would be in the furthest cell in the back of the prison, chained to the walls, and waiting for me to decide if they would live or die.
Reo walked on my right, his footsteps echoing against the concrete in steady, measured beats.
Hiro flanked my left, his presence quieter but no less lethal.
The corridor stretched before us—a gauntlet of iron bars and empty cells. Most stood vacant, their doors hanging open like hungry mouths. The few that were occupied held people I didn't bother to look at.
Not yet.
Not until I reached the ones who mattered.
An armed Scale kept guard every five feet. Each time they spotted us, they bowed.
A whimper slithered out from one of the cells as we passed.
Quiet.
Desperate.
The sound of a man who had screamed himself hoarse days ago and had nothing left but that pitiful, animal noise.
I didn't slow down.
The air grew colder as we descended deeper. Moisture clung to the walls, mixing with the metallic scent of blood.
The prison had been designed to hold heat when Totoro was active, but when dormant, it became a tomb of damp stone and endless shadow.
No toilets in these cells.
Just holes in the ground where prisoners pissed and shit like animals.
Dignity was not a luxury afforded to those who betrayed the Dragon.
Somewhere to our left, fingernails scraped against concrete—a slow, rhythmic drag that set my teeth on edge. Whether the prisoner was trying to escape or simply losing their mind, I didn't know.
I didn't care.
Reo’s voice came out calm. "We have a report from Paris.”
“Go ahead.”
“The Butcher has killed two of our spies."
I tensed, yet my stride didn't falter.
Two of my spies. Dead.
Reo continued, "Jean-Pierre is smart. When he learned about the bombs, he possibly knew that you had set him up this way and so. . .he tested his theory and found two.”
My voice came out harder than I intended. "He hasn't found and killed all of the spies. That’s good."
We passed another row of cells. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting strobing shadows across the bars. Somewhere in the distance, water dripped in a slow, maddening rhythm.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Like a clock counting down to someone’s death.
A voice drifted from a cell we neared—barely audible, trembling, speaking words I recognized as prayer.
I didn't know which god they were begging.
It didn't matter.
No gods answered in this place.
Only dragons.
Hiro spoke from my left. "And has our father called him?"
“Several times. Now we know the Butcher is not answering due to him thinking that we put spies in Paris.” Reo shrugged. "However, the Fox texted Jean-Pierre asking why he hasn't returned his calls."
I glanced at him. "And what did the Butcher say?"
"Jean-Pierre texted back that he had some house cleaning to do first and then he would call in the morning." Reo's jaw tightened. "Hours later, he killed two of our spies."
House cleaning.
Is that what he called it? Hunting down the men I had planted in his organization and no doubt slaughtering them like pigs with his deathly violin bow?
The rage that lived in my chest—the one I kept caged behind walls of control and calculation—rattled against its bars.
I will end this war soon.
We turned a corner.
More cells came.
More darkness.
The ceiling lowered here, the ventilation shafts narrowing to thick metal tubes that groaned with each gust of recycled air. It felt like descending into the belly of some ancient beast.
"Let's hope the Butcher just thinks it is those two spies and never catches the other spies or even the hackers." Hiro's voice was thoughtful. "We only need the hackers to track our father."
My brother was right.
Unfortunately, the spies were expendable—sacrificial pieces on a board that spanned continents.
But the hackers were different. They were ghosts in the machine, invisible threads woven into the Butcher’s digital infrastructure.
If Jean-Pierre found them, we would lose our best chance at locating my father before he located us.
"Keep watch on the Butcher." I sighed. "Perhaps we may have our father's location earlier than we thought."
Reo nodded.
I turned my attention to Hiro. "How was my Tiger this evening?"
Something shifted in his expression. A flicker of warmth beneath the usual sardonic mask.
"She’s very smart. Funny." He let the word hang for a moment. "Beautiful."
I frowned.
"It was fascinating to see her work, but most of all. . .she smelled quite delicious."
I sneered at him. "It wasn't a date, Hiro. It was a mission."
"I know. According to you, I cannot date your Tiger." Hiro's frown was theatrical, but there was something genuine beneath it. Something that made me want to remind him—violently—exactly who Nyomi belonged to.
“Careful, brother.”
“Being careful is boring.” Hiro reached into his jacket and pulled out a phone. "This is what your Tiger found in Mami's room. The messages and proof of—"
"I don't need to see it." I waved the phone away, before he could show me the screen. "If my Tiger said the spies are Mami and Sako, then that is what it is."
Hiro smirked and then handed the phone to Reo without another word.
My Tiger. . .
Gratitude swelled in my chest.
You did it.
She had walked into a den of serpents tonight and emerged with proof of their venom. She had done what my own security had failed to do for years. She had found the rot at the heart of my household and ripped it into the light.
And she had done it while I was in another part of the mansion and unable to protect her.
The gratitude curdled into something darker.
Sharper.
I should have been there. I should have been the one to find them. To shield her from the ugliness of what Mami and Sako had become.
But I hadn't been there.
And now four traitors hung in chains below my home, and my Tiger was alone in our bed, and I was here—walking through a prison designed for burning, with fire in my veins and death in my hands.
She’ll understand. This is what I am. This is what loving me means.
The corridor opened into a wider chamber. The cells here were larger, reinforced with thicker bars. The drains in the floor were bigger too—designed to handle more than just water.
Reo's voice broke through my thoughts. "The Lion wants to meet with you."
I rolled my eyes. "And did you tell the Lion that I am currently in the middle of a fucking war?"
"I did." Reo's tone was carefully neutral. "And he said, 'That is not my concern.'"
The fucking Lion.
Of course it wasn't his concern. Kazimir concerned himself with exactly two things: expanding his empire and stroking his own ego. The fact that I was trying to kill my father while preventing said father from killing me was merely an inconvenience to his schedule.
I shook my head. "The Lion is going to have to wait."
Reo's pause was almost imperceptible. "That could cause problems in the future."
"The moment I leave this island, it is to kill my father. That is it." I kept walking and fixed my eyes on the chamber ahead. "I’m not leaving this island to meet with that egotistical Russian."
Hiro snorted.
We reached the final door—a massive slab of reinforced steel with a wheel lock that looked like it belonged on a submarine.
Five guards stood on either side. Their faces were blank, and their postures were rigid.
They bowed as I approached.
I didn't acknowledge them.
Reo got ahead of me, gripped the wheel, and turned. The lock disengaged, emitting the sound of bones cracking.
And beyond the door, illuminated by the harsh glow of industrial lights, four figures dangled and stood on their tippy toes as they remained in place with chains bolted to the ceiling.
Mami.
Sako.
And my two Eyes.
All four looked up as I entered.
The Eyes with defiance.
Sako with sadness.
Mami with pure terror.
Deceitful fucking serpents. Enough.
I stepped into the chamber, Hiro remained at my side, and Reo closed the door behind us.
"Good evening." My voice echoed off the ceramic tiles like the first rumble of thunder before a storm. "Let's discuss your choices."
My footsteps echoed against the tiles too as I moved toward the center of the room.
With my right hand, I dove in my pocket and pulled out a gold antique lighter—heavy, ornate, passed down from my mother's family.
The metal was warm against my palm.
I flicked it open.
The flame appeared, small and hungry.
I flicked it closed.
Darkness.
I did the motion again.
Open.
Flame.
Closed.
Nothing.
The rhythm steadied me. Giving my hands something to do while my heart threatened to shatter.
Behind me, my army was already in the room and assembled in perfect silence.
The Claws stood in rows along the back wall. Their loyalty was absolute, according to my Tiger’s test. Their rage, barely contained. I could feel it radiating from them like heat from a furnace.
The Fangs flanked their sides.
All of my inner circle was there except the twins who were currently guarding my Tiger upstairs.
I stopped in the center of the chamber.
Flick.