Chapter forty
Dion
Everybody looked at me differently after the race. That was the first thing I noticed. Not the whispers. Not the tension. Not even the blood still staining the track when they finally reopened Greyveil Summit two days later.
It was the looks. People moved when I walked into rooms now. The Kingsmen straightened up around me like they were waiting for orders I didn’t wanna give. The North side suddenly felt too quiet. Like the whole damn town was holding its breath. Because Nadia Slade almost died beside me. And I won.
Funny how nobody gave a shit about that part. I sat on the hood of my car outside the Hattori house with a cigarette between my fingers and stared at the city below. Stonebridge looked beautiful from up here. That was the problem with this place. It always looked prettier from far away.
“You’re avoiding me.” I glanced over my shoulder.
My father stood in the doorway dressed in black slacks and a dark button-up, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. Calm, collected, and above all, untouchable. Like always. Most people found him comforting. I never had.
“You gonna answer?” He asked. I took another drag slowly.
“No.” His mouth twitched slightly, not in amusement, but annoyance.
“You won the Daredevil.”
“Did I?” That earned me a sharper look. I flicked ash onto the pavement.
“Didn’t really feel like winning.”
Silence stretched between us. Naoya stepped farther outside.
“You think I had something to do with the crash.” Straight to it. My jaw flexed immediately.
“You tell me.”
“I didn’t touch Nadia.”
The answer came too fast, too clean, like he’d rehearsed it already.
I studied him carefully. Most people in Stonebridge saw Naoya Hattori as composed.
Sophisticated. Calculated. But I saw the cracks.
The moments where his eyes went empty instead of cold.
The way he hated losing control over conversations.
The way he always seemed to know things before anybody else did.
“You know what’s interesting?” I muttered. Naoya stayed silent.
“The SUV used South Side mining roads.”
“They did.” Not a question. A statement.
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“Should I be?” I laughed quietly.
“There it is.” His gaze sharpened.
“What?”
“That thing you do.” I pointed lazily with my cigarette.
“Where you act like you’re already ten steps ahead of everybody.”
“Careful.” He warned. I smiled humorlessly.
“Or what?”
The temperature shifted instantly. Not visibly, but I still felt it. My father had never hit me. Never screamed. Never lost his temper the way other gang leaders did. That made him scarier. Because people like him didn’t explode. They dismantled.
“You’re emotional right now, though I don’t understand why.” He said calmly.
“Nadia almost died.”
“And?” The word snapped through me like a whip. I stood immediately.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Naoya’s expression barely changed.
“It means you’re allowing feelings to cloud your judgment.”
Wrong answer. Very wrong answer. I crossed the distance between us before I fully realized I’d moved. Naoya didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. Just looked down at me with that same eerie calm.
“She didn’t do anything. How the fuck am I supposed to be respected as the new king when the only fucking reason I won is that one nearly died and the other let me?” I said lowly.
“She came back to Stonebridge digging into things that should’ve stayed buried.” My blood ran cold.
“What things?” There it was, the tiniest pause. Barely noticeable, but I caught it. Naoya realized he said too much. Interesting.
“You’re reading into things.” He replied smoothly.
“No. I’m listening.” His eyes hardened slightly.
“You’ve been spending too much time getting high and fornicating with anything that has a pulse. You need to grow up and stop being such a disappointment.”
“Tell me something I haven’t already heard. Doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been acting weird as shit.” Silence. The curtains behind us swished quietly, my nosey mother pretending not to eavesdrop. Coward. Naoya adjusted his cuffs slowly.
“You’re emotional because of the race.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“No.” I stepped closer.
“I’m emotional because somebody tried to murder Nadia and suddenly everybody’s acting like they know more than they should.”
His gaze flickered briefly toward the city below. Toward the mountain roads. Toward Greyveil Summit. Then, back to me.
“Some things in Stonebridge are older than gangs, Dion.” That stopped me cold. The words settled wrong in my chest immediately.
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said.”
“Don’t do cryptic bullshit with me.” Naoya sighed softly through his nose, showcasing his disappointment. What a lousy son I was.
“I spent years trying to teach you restraint.”
“And I spent years realizing you only answer questions halfway.” His eyes narrowed dangerously, but I was too angry to care anymore.
Ever since the crash, something felt off. Not just with my father. With everything. The town, the gangs, the tension crawling beneath every conversation lately. And Nadia- Jesus Christ.
The way she’d looked lately. Obsessed. Haunted. Like she was carrying around secrets heavy enough to crush her.
“She found something, didn’t she?” I asked quietly. Naoya’s silence answered louder than words.
“What did she find?”
“She should’ve left the past alone.” My pulse spiked immediately.
“The fuck does that mean?”
“It means people die digging where they shouldn’t.”
There it was again. That weird underlying threat beneath his calm voice. I stared at him carefully. Really carefully. And for the first time in my life, I
realized something horrifying. I didn’t actually know him, my own fucking father. Not really. Not beyond the version he allowed people to see.
“Bullshit doesn’t smell good on you, father.” His expression darkened instantly.
“Watch yourself.”
“Why? Because I’m getting too close?” The second the words left my mouth, I knew I fucked up. Naoya went completely still. Not angry. Worse. Empty.
“Go home, Dion.” I stared at him.
“What?”
“You’re upset. Tired. Not thinking clearly.”
“There you go again.” I rolled my eyes. His gaze sharpened lethally.
“Go. Home.” The finality in his voice hit hard enough that even I took a step back.
And suddenly I was sixteen again. Standing in his office after losing my first fight. Bleeding and humiliated, while Naoya calmly taught me how weakness buried people in Stonebridge. A sick feeling twisted in my stomach. Because for the first time-
- I wondered if that lesson had been personal. I dropped my cigarette and crushed it beneath my boot. Then quietly asked,
“Who are you really?” Naoya looked at me for a very long time. Something almost human flickered across his face. Regret, maybe. I didn’t have a chance to figure it out, because it vanished immediately after.
“I’m the man who raised you.”
No, that wasn’t the answer. That was avoidance. I realized he knew it too, because he turned away first. Conversation over. Dismissed. But as I walked back toward my car, one sentence kept replaying inside my skull over and over again.
Some things in Stonebridge are older than gangs.
For the first time in my life, I was terrified Naoya Hattori might be one of them.