Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
He was taller than I’d realized.
Broader.
His body completely caged me, one of his thighs pressed between my legs to keep me immobilized.
This wasn’t just restraint.
This was combat.
Instinct.
Lethal efficiency.
And he was still fucking sleeping.
He’d moved on pure muscle memory—disarm, control, neutralize the threat—all while still mostly unconscious.
How the fuck. . . ?
My heart hammered so hard I could hear it in my ears. My breath came in short, panicked gasps that made my chest rise and fall against his.
Pointing guns at his head, the guards crept closer and continued speaking in Japanese.
"H-hiro," I whispered, my voice shaking. "It’s me. It’s Nyomi."
Yawning, slowly. . .his eyes began to open.
Meanwhile, the blade didn’t waver.
"HIRO!" The scarred guard’s voice cracked like a whip. "Stand down! That’s the Tiger!"
Hiro blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Slow.
Confused.
Like he was surfacing from deep water.
His pupils shifted, focusing gradually. The haze cleared in fragments—awareness trickling back piece by piece.
I watched it happen.
Watched him come back to himself.
Watched the exact moment he realized what he’d done.
His eyes widened.
The knife was still at my throat.
My wrist was still pinned.
His body was still pressed against mine, holding me captive against the counter.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us breathed.
His gaze dropped to the blade at my neck, then back to my face. Horror flooded his expression.
Raw, devastating horror.
His voice was hoarse, broken. "You are not the Fox."
“I-I am not.”
“You are my brother’s Heart.”
“I-I am.”
Behind us, the guards hadn’t lowered their weapons. Three guns were trained on Hiro’s back, fingers on triggers, probably ready to shoot if that blade so much as twitched.
"Hiro," the scarred guard said carefully, voice steady but commanding. "Lower the knife. Please. Now."
Hiro’s hand trembled harder. He looked at the blade like he didn’t recognize it. Like it had appeared in his hand by some terrible magic.
“No.” Slowly, he began to move the knife away from my throat and backed away.
I stayed pressed against the counter, unable to move. My legs felt like water. My heart was trying to break through my ribs.
My hand instinctively went to my neck even though he hadn't broken skin.
Behind us, the guards hadn't lowered their weapons.
"Nyomi." The scarred guard's voice was tight. "Please. Step away from him. Now."
But I couldn't move.
My body wouldn't cooperate.
My throat still buzzed where steel had hovered.
Hiro's face had gone pale. "I. . .I'm sorry. I didn't—"
"She needs to sit down," the younger guard said, already moving toward me. "Are you in shock?"
Am I?
I looked down at my hands.
They were trembling violently.
Oh.
The guard tried to guide me away, but I shook my head. If I moved, if I acknowledged what just happened, I'd fall apart.
Better to stay still.
Better to breathe.
"Nyomi. I’m. . .sorry." Hiro's voice cracked. "Are you okay?"
"Yes. . ." My voice came out thin, reedy. Not my voice at all. "I just need a minute to steady my nerves and then I’ll be fine."
I filled my lungs—one, two, three, four—held it while the room rang with the aftermath—one, two, three, four—then let the air out, long and even—one, two, three, four, five, six.
Again.
Breath in for four.
Hold for four.
Breath out for six.
Hold for four.
I counted silently, eyes on a fixed point over Hiro’s shoulder—the edge of a cabinet hinge catching the light—anchoring there while the panic tried to drag me under.
Warmth returned to my fingers first. It was a slow prickle beneath the skin. The ringing in my ears softened. My knees stopped threatening to fold.
Another cycle.
In.
Hold.
Out.
Hold.
My breaths steadied.
The vise around my ribs loosened.
I let out a long breath. “Okay. Okay. I’m fine.”
Hiro looked down at the knife. “What happened?”
“You were sleeping.” I put my view on him. “And. . .I just walked by you.”
"I could have killed you." The words came out strangled. "I could have—"
"But you didn’t." I blinked. “So. . .that’s good. . .”
He flipped the knife closed and pocketed it. “All you did was walk by me?”
“Yeah. I was barely two feet away from you.”
“Ah. That’s too close.”
I blinked.
Terror hit his eyes. “Never get that close to me when I’m sleeping.”
“Next time, I’ll wake you up before I fully enter the room.”
“That’s a good idea.”
I stepped back.
Holy shit.
The guards still kept their weapons on him this whole time. I could tell that this entire moment had stressed them the hell out. Either they would have lost me from Hiro slicing my neck or they would have had to shoot the Dragon’s brother.
Not good options at all.
His jaw clenched. "I’m sorry. . .I could have killed you. . ."
"I’m okay.” Shivering, I let out a nervous chuckle and edged back. “It’s all good. Lesson learned. Give you some space when you sleep.”
Because you are one dangerous motherfucker.
I backed up some more.
Hiro stood there in the middle of the kitchen—shirtless, tattooed, hair a mess, eyes devastated—looking like a man who’d just woken up from a nightmare only to find he’d brought the nightmare with him.