Chapter 10 #2
“Lonari,” he calls, still smooth. “Come on. This is embarrassing.”
Jordan looks at me, eyes bright with adrenaline.
I tilt my head slightly. “Stay here.”
“No,” she whispers immediately.
I give her a look.
She exhales. “Fine. But if you die out there, I’m not carrying your huge body anywhere, so don’t.”
Despite everything, I almost laugh.
I crack the bathroom door open a fraction and step out.
The suite is dim now—emergency lighting only, red strips glowing along the baseboards, painting everything in a blood-colored wash. The air is thinner, the gas mostly pulled out, but it still lingers in faint sweetness at the back of my throat.
Two figures stand near the entrance.
Kaijen suits. Weapons visible.
And Fyr.
He’s taller than most, lean, dressed impeccably, hair slicked back like he’s headed to a board meeting instead of a murder. His smile is perfect, and his eyes are dead.
“Boss,” he says, spreading his hands like we’re old friends. “There you are.”
I step forward slowly, keeping my body between them and the bathroom door.
“What are you doing in my suite?” I ask.
Fyr’s smile doesn’t falter. “Kel asked for the human. I’m making it easy.”
“You tried to gas my room,” I say.
He shrugs, as if we’re discussing weather. “I didn’t want her screaming. Screams bring attention.”
“Good,” I say softly. “Attention is what you’re getting.”
One of the suited men shifts, hand tightening on his weapon.
Fyr tilts his head. “You’re making this a scene, Lonari.”
“I’m making it public,” I correct.
His eyes narrow a fraction. “We’re family.”
I let my mouth curve into something cold. “Family doesn’t poison family.”
Fyr’s smile thins. “Family does what it has to.”
I take another step forward, and the room seems to tighten around me. The suited men hesitate—because it’s one thing to kill a human in a quiet room, and another thing to point a gun at me when my name still carries weight.
“Jordan is under my protection,” I say, voice steady. “Kel knows that.”
“Kel is Godfather,” Fyr replies smoothly. “Kel decides.”
“Kel is afraid,” I say, and the words land like a slap. “And you’re his errand boy.”
Fyr’s jaw flexes, a brief crack in the mask.
“Careful,” he murmurs. “You don’t want to insult Kel.”
“I’m not insulting him,” I say. “I’m stating a fact.”
Footsteps sound in the hallway outside—more, approaching fast. Voices. Renn’s voice among them. Security responding to the power flickers, to the ventilation anomaly, to the alarms the building quietly sent out when someone forced a door without authorization.
Fyr hears it too.
His eyes flick toward the hall, then back to me.
“You’re really going to do this?” he asks. “Over a human?”
“Not over a human,” I say, and my voice drops, dangerous. “Over the truth.”
Jordan steps out of the bathroom then—because of course she does—standing behind me, hair tousled, eyes sharp, wearing my shirt like a flag.
Fyr’s gaze locks onto her.
His smile returns, bright and predatory. “There she is.”
Jordan lifts her chin. “Hi. You smell like failure.”
Fyr’s eyes narrow. “Cute.”
“I know,” she says sweetly. “I try.”
The hallway door bursts open and Renn storms in with three enforcers, weapons raised.
“What the hell—” Renn starts, then stops when he sees Fyr and the two men.
His eyes flick to me. “Boss?”
I don’t look away from Fyr.
“This man tried to eliminate my protected guest,” I say loudly, clearly, so the room hears it the way a courtroom hears an accusation. “In my suite.”
Fyr spreads his hands. “Lonari’s emotional. The human is a liability. Kel ordered—”
“I don’t give a damn what Kel ordered,” I cut in, and the words echo. The two suited men flinch. Renn’s eyes widen.
Fyr’s smile disappears entirely now. “You’re defying the Godfather.”
“Yes,” I say.
Silence drops like a blade.
Even the emergency lights feel like they pause.
Then another voice drifts in from the open doorway, smooth and amused.
“Well,” Glar says, stepping into view like he owns the air, “this is getting spicy.”
His fur is immaculate. His suit is immaculate. His eyes glitter with satisfaction, like he’s been waiting for this fracture.
He looks at me and smiles. “Lonari. You’re making the Nine nervous.”
I stare at him. “Good.”
Glar’s smile widens slightly. “You know what happens when the Nine get nervous.”
“Yeah,” I say. “They start cutting.”
He nods. “Consequences.”
Jordan’s voice cuts in, sharp. “Oh my god. Do you people ever speak in anything other than vague threats and euphemisms?”
Glar looks at her like she’s a fascinating insect. “You’re brave.”
Jordan smiles brightly. “I’m traumatized. There’s a difference.”
Renn clears his throat, trying to pull the room back from the edge. “Boss, Kel will—”
“Kel will do what he does,” I say, finally turning my head slightly toward Renn. “And so will I.”
I face Fyr again.
“You tried to kill a civilian under my protection,” I say. “Get out of my house.”
Fyr’s lips curl. “You don’t own this house.”
I step closer, and my voice drops low enough that only he hears the edge.
“Watch me,” I murmur.
Fyr’s eyes flick to the gathered enforcers. He can feel the room shifting—people choosing sides in their heads, loyalty recalculating like a ledger.
He swallows once, then straightens.
“This isn’t over,” he says, voice loud enough for everyone now, saving face.
“No,” I agree. “It’s not.”
Fyr backs toward the door with his men, posture stiff with rage. As he passes Glar, Glar’s smile never changes.
“Such drama,” Glar purrs. “Kel won’t like this.”
“I don’t care what Kel likes,” I say, raising my voice again, letting it carry. “And here’s what else—starting now, I’m auditing tribute accounts.”
The room freezes.
Renn’s face goes pale.
Somewhere in the corridor beyond, a guard whispers, “He said audit.”
Glar’s eyes sharpen, amusement thinning. “That’s… ambitious.”
“It’s necessary,” I say.
Glar steps closer, voice soft. “Those ledgers aren’t yours.”
“They are Kaijen ledgers,” I reply. “And I am Kaijen.”
Glar’s smile returns, but it’s brittle now. “You’re going to fracture the syndicate.”
I nod once. “Good.”
Renn exhales like he’s trying not to panic. “Boss, people are going to choose—”
“They already are,” I say.
Jordan’s hand touches my arm—light, brief, grounding. I glance down at her, and the look in her eyes isn’t fear.
It’s resolve.
Glar watches that touch with interest, like he’s logging it.
Then he leans in, voice low, for me alone. “The Nine don’t forgive.”
I lean in too, close enough that my breath warms his fur. “Then they better learn.”
Glar’s eyes flash—delight and threat and calculation all at once. He steps back.
“Very well,” he says, smooth again. “I’ll let Kel know you’ve chosen your… position.”
He turns and glides out, leaving behind the faint scent of expensive cologne and old danger.
Fyr is gone. The suite feels smaller with all these people in it, all these eyes.
Renn looks at me like he’s seeing a different man than the one he followed yesterday. “Boss,” he says carefully, “this is going to split the house.”
I nod. “I know.”
Jordan speaks up, voice steady. “Good. Maybe the rot needs sunlight.”
Several enforcers glance at her, startled by the nerve.
I look at Renn. “Lock down the inner corridors. Double security on Jordan. Anyone who enters my floor without authorization gets put on the ground.”
Renn nods quickly. “Yes, boss.”
He hesitates, then asks, quieter, “And Kel?”
I stare at the open doorway where Glar disappeared, then at the faint red glow of emergency strips, the evidence of how close this came to ending in quiet murder.
“Kel made his choice,” I say. “Now he lives with it.”
Renn swallows and nods, then starts barking orders, scattering the room into motion.
Jordan stays beside me, fingers still lightly on my arm.
When the suite finally empties, the silence that remains is different from before—charged, cracked, irreversible.
Jordan looks up at me, her voice softer now. “You just lit a fuse.”
I exhale slowly, tasting the last faint sweetness of gas in the air. “Yeah.”
“And you did it for me,” she says.
I meet her gaze. “I did it because they tried to take you.”
“That’s… for me,” she replies.
I don’t argue. I don’t have the energy to pretend this is purely strategic anymore.
My house is fracturing. My family is splitting down old fault lines. The Nine are watching. Kel is afraid. Fyr is ambitious. Glar is smiling.
And in the middle of it all, a human woman stands in my suite wearing my shirt and holding a drive full of proof like it’s a knife.
I lean slightly toward her and speak low, honest.
“Stay close,” I say. “This place is about to get ugly.”
Jordan’s mouth curves faintly. “Lonari, sweetheart… it’s already ugly. It’s just finally honest about it.”
For a second—just a second—I feel something like pride.
Then the building’s comm system chimes softly in the corridor outside, and I know the next move is coming.
Because in a place like this, defiance doesn’t echo.
It detonates.