THIRTY NINE
Y amatochi’s face tightened, and he sighed deeply. “When I first heard about the video game you were involved in, I had my suspicions. The game had elements that seemed… too close to certain realities. I needed to know if it implicated the Japanese, if it was revealing too much. So, I invested in finding out more.”
Poison’s heart skipped a beat. “The Japanese?” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper.
“Yes, the Japanese Mafia,” he confirmed, his tone grave. “To ensure I got the information I needed, I assigned Mister Thompson to the task. He was to get close to you, understand what you knew, and determine if you
posed a threat.”
Her world tilted, her breath catching in her throat. Scorpion hadn’t just stumbled into her life—he had been sent to spy on her. The betrayal stung, a sharp pain deeper than any physical injury.
“You mean to tell me… I was just a task?” Her voice trembled with anger and hurt.
Yamatochi nodded, his expression regretful. “It started that way. His feelings for you even had me doubted his loyalty, suspecting he might have shifted his allegiance. But he assured me that you and your game didn’t pose a threat. The night of the launch he phoned me and wanted out. Of course I couldn’t have it, not until I knew where I stood with you.”
She turned away, trying to process the revelation. The man she had trusted, who she had fallen for, had been reporting on her all along. Her mind raced, connecting the dots with a clarity that made her stomach churn.
“I should have known,” she muttered. “All the pieces fit too perfectly.”
“I never intended for you to get hurt, Miss Poison. I was protecting my interests, my people,” Yamatochi said, his voice softer now.
She looked back at him, realization hitting her like a punch to the gut.
“You’re... you’re the Japanese Mafia boss.” The words felt surreal as they left her lips as she lowered her head. “I apologize for my behavior, sir. I did not know.”
To her surprise, Yamatochi laughed, a deep, genuine sound that seemed to lighten the heavy air between them. “Stop apologizing, Miss Poison. Own who you are. We are equals here. You’re a mob boss in your own right.”
She looked up, her eyes meeting his. His laughter, his words—they caught her off guard. He wasn’t patronizing her; he was acknowledging her strength, her position. It stirred something inside her, a sense of pride and defiance.
“And I should apologize for any pain this has caused you. But understand, everything I did was to protect my organization.”
“With all due respect, sir, I don’t need your sympathy. Scorpion is a grown-ass man and should have had the balls to tell me himself.”
As the car approached the hospital, Poison took a deep breath. Once the car stopped in front of the Emergency Room, Damian came to her door and helped her out. Yamatochi took over, supporting her into the hospital.
Inside, Yamatochi approached the first nurse he saw, a seasoned woman with sharp eyes.
“Excuse me, Ma’am,” he said to the older woman.
Her eyes widened at the sight of Poison’s blood-covered face. “This young lady was in a motorcycle accident and requires medical attention.”
Poison recognized the nurse immediately. She had
seen her several times when Nick treated her injuries.
“Is Doctor Charlton available?” she asked.
Without a word, the nurse turned and hurried away.
“That was a bit rude,” Yamatochi commented.
But before they had time to dwell on it, the nurse returned with a wheelchair and Nick trailing behind her.
“Hey, Nick,” Poison tried to smile, despite the pain and exhaustion etched on her face.
Nick’s eyes widened in shock. “Poison!” he exclaimed.
Yamatochi leaned closer to her, whispering, “You know the doctor?”
“He’s treated me a few times,” she replied, managing a small smile.
“Definitely a streetfighter,” Yamatochi noted into her ear, and to her surprise, he sounded proud.
Nick reached them, his face a mask of concern. “Who was it this time?” he asked as Yamatochi carefully lowered her into the wheelchair.
“Bike accident, and then we nearly squashed her with our car,” Yamatochi answered.
“What?” Nick cried, eyes darting between them.
“I’m fine,” she assured him, trying to sound convincing.
“Thank you, Mister Yamatochi, for getting me here. But I can handle it from here.” She held out a blood-covered hand to him.
“That’s fine. We’ll have your bike dropped off. It was a pleasure meeting you officially.” Yamatochi took her hand without hesitation, not bothered by the blood and grime. “Take care, Miss Poison. And remember what I said.”
Yamatochi turned to Nick and nodded. “Doctor.”
As Yamatochi walked to the door, Nick swiftly guided her to a room before she could watch him leave.
“What’s the diagnosis, P?” Nick asked as he helped her sit on a hospital bed.
“Well, Doc, I’m wasting my time here,” she sighed.
“The cut on your cheek doesn’t agree.” Nick began cleaning the blood from her face.
She glanced down at the handkerchief still clutched in her bruised and bleeding hands. Unfolding the blood-stained cloth, she noticed initials embroidered in the corner—DY.
“It’s just a scrape. I’m fine. Promise,” she tried to convince him.
He shot her a disbelieving look. “You look like you went ten rounds with a bear, Poison.”
She chuckled, then winced at the pain. “Just another day in the life of a streetfighter.”
Nick shook his head, but his eyes softened. “Let’s get you patched up, warrior.”
As he worked, her thoughts drifted. She had faced betrayal, discovered unexpected alliances, and now stood at a crossroads. Yamatochi’s words echoed in her mind: “ Own who you are .” She would take that to heart. She would rise, stronger and more determined than ever.
“Want to tell me why you were crying?” Nick’s concern was clear.
“How did you know?” she asked, startled.
“Your makeup is all the way down your cheeks. What happened?” Bless Nick for his paternal concern.
“I broke up with Scorpion, but it’s nothing.” She hoped he’d understand the code for ‘ please leave it alone .’
“His loss.” Nick smiled as he moved to clean her hands.
She was grateful he didn’t press about her other injuries.
“Who was the man that dropped you off?” Nick tried to sound casual.
She hesitated, her mind replaying the conversation with Yamatochi.
“Someone I never expected to meet,” she said, lost in her thoughts. “He’s more complicated than I thought.”
Nick raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. Instead, he focused on cleaning her wounds, his gentle touch a stark contrast to the rough treatment she’d been enduring.
“Thanks, Nick,” she murmured, appreciating his silence and care.
“Anytime, P. You know I’m here for you,” he replied with a genuine smile.
When he finished with her hands and scraped hip,
he stepped back, giving her a once-over.
“You seem okay. You just need rest. My shift is over, so I’ll give you a ride home,” he offered.
Poison waited in the reception area while Nick gathered his things. Once in the car, exhaustion overtook her, and she fell asleep on the way home.
The following morning, Poison woke up in unfamiliar surroundings. She blinked, disoriented, realizing she was in Nina’s spare bedroom. Nick must have decided it was too much hassle getting her into her apartment and let her sleep here instead. The clock on the nightstand read six-thirty. Her body felt stiff but less sore. She got out of bed and showered, grateful for the spare clothes she kept at Nina’s.
After dressing, she crept into the kitchen. It was Saturday morning, and she knew Nina wouldn’t be up until at least seven-thirty. She started making breakfast and as the coffee machine beeped, signaling it was done, Nina walked into the kitchen in her robe.
“Morning. Coffee?” Poison asked, pouring a cup.
“Oh yes, please. When did you get here?” Nina asked, sitting down at the breakfast bench with a yawn.
“Nick brought me here after my hospital trip,” she replied, trying to sound casual.
Nina looked up and noticed the purplish line on her cheek. “What happened?” she asked, jumping to her feet to examine her up close.
“I’m fine, Neen,” she tried to assure her, but Nina’s concern was visible. “I promise. I just had a minor crash with my bike. Nothing serious.”
Nina frowned, her hands on her hips like a displeased mother. “You’re going to get yourself killed on that thing.”
Poison placed Nina’s coffee on the counter, gently urging her to sit. “I won’t. I told you it wasn’t serious. And you’re going to wake Nick up.”
At that moment, Demi walked into the kitchen, clutching her teddy bear. When she saw Poison, she dropped it and ran to her, hugging her around the hips.
“Hey, P! I’m so glad you’re here!” Demi squealed.
“Hey, Princess. Want some breakfast?” She picked Demi up and placed her on the barstool next to Nina.
“Yes, please,” Demi beamed.
She served breakfast, the comfort of the morning routine soothing her frazzled nerves.
After doing the dishes, she said goodbye to Nina and Demi, called a Cruze, and headed home.