Chapter 2
Chapter Two
FINN
My phone chirps as I prepare to sneak out of the control panel room.
Jinx.
I read the message without any reaction. It’s no surprise she found me trying to break into her code. She’s been a familiar but elusive figure for too long.
At first, I found her gossiping, taunting, and leaking of secrets amusing. But more and more, her expose’s turned personal. Private. Deep.
Jinx knows things she shouldn’t.
Has access to places she shouldn’t.
It’s because of her that we confirmed Cadence and Grey’s kidnapping. It’s a little too convenient. The timing, a little too suspicious. Dutch and Zane went through the mall footage with a fine-toothed comb and couldn’t find the video Jinx sent.
Something is very off about that anonymous poster.
Finding her was my obsession in the past, but it’s quickly becoming my family’s lifeline.
I’ll deal with Jinx later.
I slip out of the room and hike to the second floor.
A long hallway unfolds in front of me. This part is where things get tricky.
I disabled the cameras on the north side of the building as soon as I was close enough to log into the wi-fi, but it’s possible there was a separate backup battery installed.
Or maybe Kurosaki had a tail watching me the moment I walked into the building.
Plausible.
Kurosaki is the definition of paranoid. He’d have to be, as the head of an underground crime organization.
Hastily, I boot the cameras back up and swipe through the monitors on my phone. The app allows me to see every hallway in the warehouse, and I keep searching until I spot three burly men waiting outside a room in the west wing.
Those are Kurosaki’s trusted guards.
He must be in there.
I slip my phone into my pocket and walk boldly. Head high. Shoulders straight. Arms loose. It would be smarter to remain covert, but I don’t have time for that.
Footsteps get louder in the distance, and a moment later, unfamiliar guards turn the bend. They see me, their eyes narrowing slightly and then widening with recognition. At once, the members stop and bow, and they don’t straighten until I’m already past them.
It’s still weird. Still makes me itchy.
I’m not who they think I am.
I don’t want to be who they think I am.
But it’s not like I’m going to explain why I don’t want to take over the yakuza from a father I’ve never known. For now, their unearned respect works in my favor.
I near the hallway where Kurosaki’s security is stationed. His soldiers are dressed in tailored black suits, which would look businesslike if not for the tattoos running up their necks and over their arms.
The men hold themselves perfectly still. The boss isn’t watching, but not once do they break formation or talk or even slouch. It’s a discipline I’ve never seen before.
Pulling back before they spot me, I open my phone and tap. Immediately, the men receive notifications on their phones. One gestures to the other and says something in Japanese.
Two of the three break off to investigate what is—I’m sure—a message that the south region of the warehouse has been broken into.
They won’t find any intruders pilfering their “goods,” of course.
I just needed some of them gone to even the game.
Now there’s one against one.
I like those odds.
I inhale and hear my judo instructor’s feeble voice in my head. Control the conflict, Finn. Not the opponent.
Deep breaths.
One.
I crouch low.
Two.
In a running leap, I spring from my hiding place and launch into a roundhouse kick. My foot slams into the guard’s neck. He smashes into the wall, the noise thudding much louder than I expected. I wince when he crumples to the floor, on his hands and knees.
I caught him off-guard but didn’t knock him unconscious. He swings around, his eyes narrowed in fury.
For a split second, I remain in place, stunned.
The inaction costs me. As I rush to the meeting room, the guard is already on his feet and firing words at me in Japanese.
Desperately, I barrel inside. Five lieutenants seated around a low table whip around. Kurosaki is at the head of the table, dressed in his usual uniform of a long black shirt and wide-legged trousers.
His dark, knowing eyes land on me with not a hint of surprise. Did he know I was coming?
My jaw tightens.
A sound from behind tears my attention away from Kurosaki. I hear the grunt of the security detail and dodge his hand as he lunges to grab my shoulder.
While the other man fumbles, I stare at the yakuza boss. “Where?” I growl. “Are. They?”
Kurosaki calmly lifts his tea to his lips.
But his men aren’t so calm. The lieutenants draw to their feet menacingly. I back up as they approach and surround me, locking me in a circle. Their expressions are smug, as if they already think they’ve won.
I open my phone and tap another button.
Without fanfare…
Without warning…
All the lights dip off.
The lieutenants shout in surprise, but I don’t make the same mistake of hesitating twice. Pulling the night vision goggles out of my pocket, I snap them on, and the entire room blinks into focus.
I run past the lieutenants, noting their confusion. The men are loud, yelling at each other in Japanese. They’re so disoriented, they’re bumping into each other, grabbing and feeling each other up to check who they have in their grip.
If I wasn’t so occupied with making it to Kurosaki, I’d stop to watch their comical attempts to catch me.
Sensei would be proud.
When strength clashes with strength, power prevails — but when one bends with wisdom, even power can be turned aside.
The lights flash on, power restored.
But it’s too late.
I’m in front of Kurosaki and push the goggles on top of my head. The ceramic teacup makes a light, clinking sound as he sets it back on the table. He swings his body toward me and sees my goggles. Deep wrinkles spread from the corner of his eyes as a smile stretches his mouth.
“Oyabun!” Kurosaki’s men charge at me.
The old man shakes his head slightly, still looking up with the proud glint in his eyes.
“I do not have them,” the yakuza boss tells me in a low, gravelly voice.
My scowl deepens. “I don’t believe you.”
“What you believe has no weight on what is.”
My fingers itch to tighten around his collar. Somehow, I don’t mind flowery language from my sensei, but Kurosaki’s attempts at poetry curdle my blood.
“If I find out you have anything to do with this, I swear I’ll—”
“You have no power to threaten me. Not yet.” He flicks his fingers, barely, like I’m not worth raising his hand all the way.
Immediately, his men grab me by the arms and shoulders and drag me back.
The one I kicked in the head speaks roughly to Kurosaki. I can’t interpret the words, but the tone is unmistakable. He wants revenge.
My birth father looks at me thoughtfully and then dips his chin.
I’m not prepared for the fist that lands in my gut. It’s swift. Sudden. Pain rattles my bones, and I double over, gasping. The next hit comes out of nowhere and it’s aimed at my face. The goggles fly off. I hear the glass crack loudly. Or maybe that’s my jaw when the third hit comes.
This time, the wind knocks out of me, and I crumple to the floor.
The blows don’t stop.
Kurosaki’s lieutenants kick me while I’m on the ground. Pain explodes in my head and ricochets through my skull. I throw my arms over my head to protect me the way Sensei taught me, and I look through the chaos of shiny black shoes to the table.
My father is impervious to the sounds of my beating as he picks up his tea and documents and continues to read.