Chapter 9
June
Hong Kong smelled different today.
The rain had just stopped when we landed. It wasn’t the kind of storm that ripped trees from their roots, destroyed houses, or flooded streets. Nothing like the tropical rain in Malaysia that came down as if the sky were breaking apart.
Just enough rain to leave the air damp and heavy, the sky grey and miserable.
Some things, though, hadn’t changed. I still hated coming here.
Hong Kong was beautiful in its own way—busy, alive, full of energy. But for me, every street seemed to carry a memory I’d spent years trying to outrun.
I had been afraid of what Dannie represented. A triad boss. Dangerous. Ruthless. Untouchable.
And yet, when Kai broke my heart, Dannie had followed me to Malaysia and left his world behind because I needed someone to hold on to. I told myself it was temporary. That he would go back eventually. But he stayed.
Now I understood what I hadn’t wanted to admit. He had given up more for me than I ever realized.
And now I was back.
Not because I wanted to be. Not because I was ready. Because this time, it was my turn to stay.
Our private jet had been cleared before we landed, so the Business Aviation Centre was almost empty. A few ground staff moved quietly around us while Kai’s security stood nearby, watching and waiting.
Dave was already waiting outside.
Three black SUVs were parked near the entrance, engines running, their windows dark enough that I couldn’t see who was inside. More cars pulled out behind us as we drove away from the airport, falling into line without needing to be told.
Kai had changed before we landed. A cap pulled low over his face. A plain white T-shirt with a small logo on the chest. Grey sweatpants that looked a little too big for him.
I had never seen him dressed like that before. Yet somehow, he looked more at ease than I’d ever seen him.
Like the version of him I’d known before everything went wrong—the man who once handed me ninety-nine one-hundred-dollar bills for my birthday as if it were nothing.
Sitting this close to him again made my chest tighten in a way I didn’t want to understand. I didn’t know this version of him anymore. Not really.
Dave had been talking almost nonstop since we got into the car, but most of it was security.
Who was watching the house. Which routes were safe. Where the extra men had been stationed. What had changed while Kai was gone and what he needed to know before we reached the city.
My mind slowly tuned him out. His voice faded into the background, turning into white noise as I stared out the window and watched the wet streets slide past, barely hearing a word he said.
I wondered if this was new. I didn’t remember Dave talking this much before. But this wasn’t a casual conversation.
He was talking about our security. Our safety. Mine, especially.
“Mrs. Li visited Shang Shang Ren International School yesterday,” Dave said from the front seat. “They’ll guarantee Huan Huan a place. Lucy hasn’t decided yet.”
My stomach tightened at the mention of Lucy. I turned toward the window, pretending to watch the wet streets.
They’d only been back in Shanghai for two days, and Lucy was already planning ahead for her child. Meanwhile, I hadn’t even found a proper nanny for Maru.
Some mother I was.
The car slowed, then turned sharply down a ramp into an underground parking garage. Concrete walls surrounded us, broken by dim lights and empty spaces. A few seconds later, we stopped.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“A safe house,” Dave answered.
I looked at Kai. “Yours? Or Dannie’s?”
He didn’t answer. That was answer enough.
He knew why I’d asked. I questioned everything he did. If this was his safe house, I’d wonder whether it was actually safe—or just expensive.
I needed to stop. If we were going to work together, I couldn’t second-guess everything Kai did. But trust wasn’t something I could switch on just like that.
One of the security guys opened the door, and I stepped out too quickly. My foot landing wrong and my ankle twisted.
Kai was out of the car instantly, catching my arm. His grip was firm and warm. Too familiar.
“I’m fine.” I pulled away as soon as he released me.
“You haven’t eaten much,” he said.
“I had a chocolate bar at the hospital.”
He scoffed. “You call that food? I thought you were a doctor.”
It had enough calories to get me through the flight. That was all I needed. Anything heavier made my stomach turn.
It had been practical. Efficient. He wouldn’t understand, and I didn’t have the energy to argue.
“What do you know?” I snapped.
We were escorted upstairs by five of Kai’s security team, with two guards staying close to each of us while Dave led the way.
No one spoke until we reached the penthouse.
The place was beautiful, but Kai’s security was everywhere. Reinforced doors. Bullet-resistant glass. Cameras and a separate security system.
“You can see out,” Kai said, glancing toward the windows. “Nobody sees in.”
“There’s a panic room behind the study,” Kai added. “Two escape routes. One through the service stairs, one through the parking level.”
The whole place felt less like a home and more like a high-end prison designed to look comfortable. Beautiful, secure, and impossible to relax in.
I forced myself to pay attention because it mattered. But my head felt light. Too light. I planted my feet carefully as we walked, afraid I might lose my balance again.
The tour ended in the kitchen.
Kai opened the fridge. It was stocked with packaged meals, iced coffee, canned energy drinks, protein shakes, and high-calorie snacks. Everything was practical—easy to grab, easy to store. Fast, and requiring little to to no preparation.
“Are you hungry?” Kai asked.
We stood on opposite sides of the huge kitchen island. It was the only thing he had said to me since we left New York.
Are you hungry?
It was almost funny. We used to talk all night, filling every silence with arguments, jokes, confessions, even pointless conversations we’d forget by morning.
Now we could barely manage a sentence.
The entire flight, I’d been planning. Running through every possible scenario. What could go wrong. What already had. What I needed to do when we got here.
I’d replayed every conversation with Dannie, every warning, every piece of information, trying to find some kind of pattern that would tell me what to do next.
“No,” I said, for what felt like the millionth time that day.
Kai didn’t argue. Instead, he opened a bag of potato chips and started eating them straight from the pack, crunching loudly and casually as though none of this was real. He shook the bag slightly as he chewed.
“Want some?”
It smelled good. Salty and familiar, making my stomach react before my brain could stop it. If he was eating them, they had to be safe. Didn’t they?
My stomach tightened as I looked at the bag. My mouth had already started watering, but I shook my head. “No.”
Kai stopped chewing and stared at me. “Are you serious?”
“What?”
“You know what.” He threw the bag onto the counter with a frustrated sigh. “I know exactly what you’re doing.”
He grabbed a bowl, poured some chips into it, then shoved it toward me. “Look. I’m eating them. They’re safe. They’re not poisoned. Just eat something, for God’s sake.”
I stared at the bowl without touching it. “The chips might not be,” I said quietly. “Maybe the bowl is.”
Kai froze. “What the—are you insane? Why would I poison the bowl?”
“I don’t know.” I looked away, feeling ridiculous even as I said it. “You Chinese people have been poisoning each other for thousands of years. I watched enough historical dramas with my mom. I know how this works.”
He stared at me for a long second. Then he rubbed his forehead. “Don’t be ridiculous. What good would it do me if you were poisoned?”
“I don’t know.”
And that was the truth. I didn’t know anything anymore.
He had drugged me once. Maybe it hadn’t even been his decision, but I had trusted him enough to drink whatever he gave me without questioning it. Now that trust was gone, and I didn’t know how to get it back.
“You drugged me once,” I said. “Who knows what you’d do again?”
His expression changed immediately. “I did that because your brother asked me to,” he said, his voice rising. “I did it to protect you. You ungrateful piece of—”
“Shit, right?” I cut in.
The word landed harder than I expected.
Shit. That was what I was to him now. An ungrateful piece of shit.
Kai stopped as if he had heard the same thing I had. His anger faded almost instantly, replaced by something that looked uncomfortably close to regret.
“…Sorry,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean that.”
His voice softened as he looked at me. “I’m just hungry. And you’re not eating. It’s making me nervous.”
“I want to get out of here.”
His expression changed immediately. “You can’t.”
“Make me.”
His jaw tightened. “You shouldn’t leave.”
That was the problem. Shouldn’t. Can’t. Wait. Stay.
Every word sounded like an order, like I didn’t get a choice in what happened to me anymore.
A familiar tightness crawled up my chest as I looked around his penthouse. His people. His plan. His resources. Everything belonged to him, and I had no control over any of it.
I was on my own. No resources. No information. No way to make a move without someone else deciding whether it was safe.
All I could do was wait for Kai’s signal. Wait for Squirrel. Wait for someone else to decide what happened next.
I wasn’t built for waiting. I needed to do something. I needed to know that if things went wrong, I had a way out.
“Where’s Squirrel?” I asked.
Kai leaned against the counter. “Dannie said he’ll reach out when the time is right.”
“When the time is right?” I repeated, unable to hide my frustration. “So we’re just sitting here until someone decides to contact us?”
“Yes. We wait for the signal.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m not sitting here like a duck waiting to get shot.”
He straightened from the counter. “June—”
I ignored him and turned toward the security team.