Chapter 2 Fractured
Chapter two
Fractured
Kenji
The Lion is here. What the fuck?
I cleaned up fast.
Wiped down.
My hands moved on autopilot while my mind stayed locked on the conversation I’d just had with my Tiger—the way she'd trembled against me, the way she'd kissed me back but couldn't stop shaking, the way she'd looked at me at the end.
Like she was seeing the end of something she wanted to believe in.
Like she was still choosing me—even while part of her was breaking.
I've got to fix this.
And somehow the fucking Lion was here on my hidden island.
Who knows how he found it?
Surely, there would be no good from this visit. He loved chaos and starting bullshit. He knew I was in the middle of a goddamn war with my father.
This should have been the only thing on my mind while I dressed, but Nyomi was the only problem I yearned to solve.
How can I get us back to where we were?
I paused from brushing my teeth.
That tremble in her hands hadn't been fear alone.
It had been grief.
And guilt.
And love colliding with horror.
The taste of mint filled my mouth as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. The same face that had commanded rooms, ended lives, built an empire from blood and discipline.
But behind it, I saw something I didn't recognize.
Uncertainty.
Goddamn it.
She had rooted herself into me in a way I hadn't anticipated—quietly, deeply—until the thought of her leaving felt less like loss and more like amputation.
I would rather burn every tradition I stood on than watch her walk away believing she was disposable.
I spat into the sink and rinsed.
She wants me to get her permission before I order a mass killing. How would that even work? I answer to no one.
My jaw tightened.
But I'd also never wanted to answer to anyone before.
I returned to the bedroom.
She was gone.
The bed was empty. The closet door stood open, dark inside. The curtain was still drawn across the window, blocking the pyre of burning traitors, but I could feel its heat pressing through the glass.
Could smell the roasted death in every breath.
Where is she?
My chest tightened. She couldn't leave the island—there was nowhere to go—but that didn't matter.
What mattered was that she wasn't here.
What mattered was that she'd looked at me like I was a stranger this morning, like the man who'd held her through the night was someone she didn't recognize.
She wasn't supposed to see that. . .
The thought burned worse than any fire.
I knew how to dominate a room. How to command loyalty. How to burn the world until it bent into order.
I did not know how to fix this.
Had it been any other woman, I would have just had Reo send her home. By that night, a new one would be in my bed.
But there was no replacing Nyomi.
And for the first time in my life, I didn't want to replace the problem with something easier.
That realization exposed something in me. A weakness I'd never permitted myself to have.
I pulled on socks, pants, and a button-down shirt. There was no need for a tie.
I fastened my cuffs and exhaled slowly.
I couldn't buy her forgiveness. I couldn't intimidate her into understanding. I couldn't erase what she'd seen or what I'd done.
I'm going to make this right by the end of the night.
I just had no idea how.
Frowning, I crossed to the door and yanked it open.
Reo stood in the hallway, flanked by four of my Fangs.
Kaoru was to his left, pink hair swept back, his usual easy charm nowhere to be found. His hand hovered near the custom Colt .45 beneath his jacket, and those pianist fingers—the ones that could dismantle a man as easily as they seduced a woman—were absolutely still.
Yoichi stood behind him, bald head gleaming under the hallway lights, the silver wolf tooth charm catching the light at his chest. No haiku on his lips this morning.
Just silence.
Rin was dressed in white as always, his long hair braided in a single ponytail down his back. He stood with the stillness of someone who preferred poison to confrontation—quiet deaths that came two days too late.
But there would be nothing quiet about what was coming.
Surely, he sensed what was about to happen in the air.
Finally, Satoshi completed the formation, ex-military posture rigid, his buzzed black hair still neat as if he'd just left inspection. His jaw was set hard enough to crack teeth.
I looked at Reo.
This morning, he was dressed impeccably as always—dark designer suit, not a hair out of place—but his expression was careful.
Guarded.
He knew he was in trouble.
Good.
I glared at him. "Where's my Tiger?"
Reo's gaze remained steady despite the danger radiating off me. "She's in the kitchen. Practicing with the chef for the cocktail party."
Cooking? After everything this morning, she's in the kitchen cooking?
Reo cleared his throat. "She also asked me to let you know that she still is getting her hair braided today. And she still wants the movies to happen this afternoon for the whole island."
"Why? She thinks there are more traitors?"
"No. She believes the island's morale needs to be raised." He swallowed. "After the events of this morning."
Relief and guilt cracked in my chest. Also, there was this desperate, clawing hope that maybe. . .her seeing the pyre hadn't destroyed everything between us.
She's not running. She's not hiding. She's thinking about my people. About their families. About what they need. That’s got to be good. Right?
I held onto that thought.
Let it settle.
But then I focused on Reo again. At that careful expression. That guarded stance. The way he was watching me like a man waiting for a blow he knew he deserved.
And I remembered the way Nyomi had slid down the wall this morning.
The way her legs had buckled.
The way she'd gagged on nothing, hand flying to her mouth, body trying to reject what her eyes had taken in.
The way she'd told me not to touch her.
Don't touch me.
Three words I'd never heard from a woman in my life. Three words that ripped through my chest like a serrated blade, twisting between my ribs, shredding everything vital inside me until. . .on the inside. . .I was drowning in my own blood, gasping for air that wouldn't come.
She might be in the kitchen now. She might be planning movies, getting her hair done, and thinking about my people's morale.
But she'd still woken up to a mountain of burning bodies. And none of that had to happen.
And then the fury returned, hot and righteous, because none of this would have happened if Reo had followed my fucking orders.
Fast, I grabbed him by the lapels of his designer suit and slammed him into the wall.
Reo's head cracked against the plaster and he grunted but didn't fight back.
Didn't even try.
The Fangs reacted.
Kaoru's hand flew to his Colt, though he didn't draw—his eyes going wide, all that heartbreak-handsome composure cracking for the first time I'd ever witnessed.
Yoichi stepped back so fast his rifle case swung against his hip. His mouth opened like he was about to speak—maybe one of his pretty haikus about violence—but nothing came out.
Rin pressed himself against the wall, white suit stark against the plaster, his usual calm shattered into something that looked like genuine fear.
Satoshi's military training kicked in—he dropped into a defensive stance, but even he looked uncertain. This wasn't an enemy he could fight.
This was his Dragon punishing his Roar.
I growled into Reo's face. "Why the fuck would you put the pyre by the window where my Tiger could see it?! And don't say it was a fucking accident. Don't tell me you didn't think this through because I know you did. You do nothing without thinking it through."
Reo met my eyes. No fear. Just that calm, measured certainty that made me want to put my fist through his damn face. "I did it because she needed to see it."
The words didn't register at first.
Couldn't register.
Because what he was saying—what he was admitting—was that he had deliberately disobeyed a direct order from the Dragon.
"She needed to see, Kenji." He didn't struggle against my grip, didn't try to break free. "She's in our world now, and if she's going to truly accept you—all of you, not just the parts you let her see—then she needs to understand what that means."
I slammed him into the wall again.
Harder.
His head snapped back and this time I saw it—a flicker of pain crossing his features before that mask slid back into place.
My shoulders burned. My jaw ached from clenching. I hadn't realized how hard I was breathing until the sound of it filled the hallway.
Kaoru stepped forward like he was going to intervene.
Satoshi caught his arm and yanked him back, shaking his head in a sharp warning. The ex-military man's grip was iron, his eyes carrying a message that needed no words: Don't. You'll die.
I looked at my Fang. “Do you have something to say?”
Kaoru's jaw worked, but he retreated. His hand fell away from his weapon.
I put my gaze back on Reo. "I told you to hide it from her. Putting it directly in front of her wasn't your decision to make."
"Someone had to make it."
For a heartbeat, I just looked at him. At that calm fucking face. At the certainty in his eyes.
Then I let go of his lapels and hit him.
Not a slam to the wall this time.
A punch.
My fist connected with his jaw and his head whipped to the side, blood spraying from his split lip onto the pristine wall. The copper scent hit me immediately. Sharp. Metallic. His blood in the air between us.
Behind me, Yoichi inhaled sharply—a sound I'd never heard from the man who made violence look beautiful. The sniper who quoted haikus while reloading was completely silent now, watching his Roar bleed with an expression that bordered on devastation.
Reo slowly turned his face back to mine and spat blood onto the floor between us. A thick, dark glob that splattered against the polished wood.
Then he looked at me like I hadn't touched him at all.