Chapter 5
Chapter Five
FINN
I push to my hands and knees as the room spins around me. Blood fills my mouth, so I spit to the side. A spray of red hits the ground.
Kurosaki’s men lift me up and drag me to the door. Halfway there, I wrench out of their grip. Every move hurts like hell, but I refuse to let them cart me out of here. I’m leaving on my own even if it kills me.
The men release me after I put up a fuss. I have my back turned to Kurosaki, so I can’t tell if it’s my own stubbornness or the yakuza boss’s instruction that made them back off.
Every breath hurts, and I sling a hand around my midsection. It feels like I might have lost a tooth.
So much for being the son of the boss. None of those goons held back.
“Musoko.” Kurosaki’s voice hangs in the air.
He’s called me that before.
It means “son” in Japanese.
I ignore him and keep limping to the door.
“Finn.” Kurosaki’s voice isn’t loud, but it holds a hint of a bite, rolling like thunder, wrapped in the authority of someone who commands countless men.
I freeze, but I don’t turn around.
“Before you lead, you must learn to follow.” He pauses. “Do not interrupt my meetings without permission again.”
The urge to fight roars within me, but my body can’t take another beating. Not so soon.
Embarrassed, I storm to the door, powering through on pure hatred and adrenaline. Outside, a tall, thin man with a scruffy mustache and glasses is waiting for me. He’s wearing a white coat and has a bag of medicine in his right hand.
He looks Asian, so I assume his voice will hold a heavy accent like all of Kurosaki’s men, but he has no distinct accent when he speaks.
“Come with me,” he says.
I stare at him dully. Kurosaki let his men beat me up and then sent a doctor to fix it. It’s psychotic, and if he thinks I’ll fall for that “beat him with a stick then dangle a carrot” act, he’s an idiot.
Brushing past the doctor, I limp to the stairs. The staircase looms like a giant mountain in the middle of a snowstorm. I take it one step at a time, but it hurts so much that I have to turn sideways, hold the railing, and inch my way to the first floor.
The fact that no one passes by as I make that slow journey strikes me as odd. The warehouse is where Kurosaki stores his drugs. It’s heavily guarded. While I was planning to break into the control room, I noted that groups of five do rotations every ten minutes.
But there’s not a soul around this section of the warehouse.
Kurosaki must have instructed his men to give me privacy. I don’t know if he’s trying to save my face or his.
Screw him either way.
It takes all my strength to make it outside. As soon as I see the evening sky, I wilt against the wall.
For a second, I just lie there and gather my breath.
Purple taints the clouds—as deep and bruising as the injuries on my face.
The sun is going down, but not without a fight.
Brilliant oranges and yellows scream across the very edge of the horizon.
A chilly breeze blows, and I shudder, but even that hurts.
My aching ribs make it hard to breathe. I squeeze my eyes shut as a wave of nausea washes over me.
I’ve been training with Kurosaki’s men since I offered myself up to join the organization, but I’ve never been ganged up on. I thought I was getting stronger, but there’s a long, long way to go.
At least my mouth has stopped bleeding.
The thought that I should call Dutch to pick me up floats through my mind, but I reject it. If my brothers see me all bloodied and bruised like this, they will absolutely lose it.
I push through the pain and drive myself to the nearest hospital. It’s a small miracle that I don’t pass out or get into an accident on the way. Somehow, I keep it together long enough to park—somewhat poorly—in the crowded lot and drag myself inside.
The room is packed.
It’s like everyone decided to check themselves into the emergency room tonight.
Rather than feel annoyed, all I feel is relieved. Even if it takes hours to get seen by a doctor, at least I got here in one piece.
As I stumble forward, the room goes quiet. A little boy holding his elbow up against his chest stares at me with wide eyes. An older man limping on a cane leans back like he’s afraid I’ll go after him and throttle his neck.
“Oh my goodness.” A short, stocky nurse freezes when she sees me. “Come over here, young man.”
She pulls me straight into a room with a line of cots on one side. No one seems bothered that I got to jump the line.
I sit on the cot, and the entire room spins around me. The tug of sleep beckons, but I use all my willpower to stay awake. If I pass out, the hospital will have to contact my guardian. Which means they’ll call Dutch or Zane. And all the effort I took to get here on my own will be for nothing.
I can’t send my brothers on a rampage of drunken revenge against the yakuza—a battle they will surely lose.
Stay awake or die.
Those are my only two options.
I fight another wave of nausea as a doctor races to my cot and holds up a light in front of my eyes. He mutters words like “concussion,” “fractured ribs,” and “X-rays.” It’s hard to hear behind the throbbing in my skull.
My phone beeps in the middle of his examination.
I pull it out of my pocket, thinking that it’s Dutch or Zane with an update on the girls’ location.
More than anything, I want Cadence and Grey to be found.
I didn’t get any clues from Kurosaki, and he made it clear that I don’t have any power to demand the answers I need.
I feel stupid, helpless, and weak.
Right about now, I could use some good news.
And what I see on my screen qualifies.
Location acquired: Signal triangulation stable (accuracy ±5.7m)
The fog of pain inside my head dissipates like darkness on the edge of dawn. I latch onto those words and sit as straight as an arrow.
Jinx.
I found her.
“Young man, you shouldn’t be on your phone right now,” the nurse scolds, her eyebrows forming a deep V. “You’re in serious shape.”
I tune her out and tap the notification, eager to see the coordinates. Shock ricochets down my spine when I triangulate the location.
And it’s…
“Here,” I breathe.
“What?” The nurse stops. “Here? What’s here?”
Dazed, I rip the IV out of my arm and hop off the cot.
“Sir, you can’t do that. You need to have an X-ray. Sir!”
Her voice gets fainter as I walk and then jog and then run to the elevator. My finger stabs the button until the doors slide apart.
Jinx is here.
This makes no sense. It has to be a joke.
But the coordinates are clear.
The anonymous poster who’s been wreaking havoc in Redwood Prep, in my brothers’ life, in my life… is inside this building.