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)
I put in thick slices of warm banana bread with small containers of caramel sauce and whipped cream I’d quickly made earlier.
Reo's bento box got extra care—I drew a tiny book on it with cherry blossoms, acknowledging the Roar's intelligence.
Then Kenji's plate.
The biggest.
The best.
Extra potatoes.
Perfect eggs.
Hollandaise drizzled just right.
And finally, my plate.
I covered both with tops.
"Hey." Hiro gestured to the guards. "Take this stuff up for her. The Tiger should not have to hold anything."
They moved immediately, gathering the bento boxes. One of them produced a food cart from somewhere on the side, and they loaded everything onto it—Kenji's plate with a cover, my plate too, and all the bento boxes arranged carefully.
Before they could wheel it away, I turned to Hiro.
He was sitting now, his plate in front of him, looking at it like it was something precious. He’d even shoved the sake bottle further away as if he were done drinking for the day.
Good. I hope he’ll be able to go back to sleep after he eats.
"Hey," I walked over to him. "Thanks for helping me out.”
“I had more fun than you will ever understand.”
“I’m glad.” I smiled. “However. . .you gotta give me a hug now.”
He blinked.
“We're family."
He looked up. Surprise flickered across his face. “A hug?”
"Yeah. We cooked together. So we're bonafide family now. You gotta give me a hug."
For a moment, he looked happy and sad at the same time. Next, he stood up—this tall, dangerous man rising from his chair—and then fast he pulled me into his big arms.
Wow!
Warmth encased me.
He held me really, really hard.
Even crazier, the hug lasted longer than I expected. Long enough that I felt his muscular chest hitch. Long enough that I heard a sniffle he tried to hide.
My own eyes watered, and I didn't know why.
Maybe because he needed this so badly.
Maybe because I needed it too—this connection, this family I was building in the most unlikely place.
"Thank you," he whispered against my hair, and his voice was rough with emotion. "Thank you for understanding about earlier and. . .thank you for. . .cooking with me."
“For sure. . .” I squeezed him once more, then pulled back, and smiled. "Anytime. . .brother."
He stared at me and remained silent as if unable to speak.
Once he let me go, he sat back down in front of his plate, but he didn’t pick up his fork.
“See you later, Hiro.”
“You definitely will. . .sister.”
I laughed and left him there in the kitchen, reggae music still playing softly, a man who'd been drowning in darkness finally coming up for air.
Alright. Now I’m finally heading back to the room.
My guards wheeled the food cart away.
Four beeps sounded on the scarred guarded wrist.
He widened his eyes. “We must hurry. The Dragon’s awake.”
Oh shit. I hope Kenji isn’t tripping about my being gone.
Chapter fifteen
The Dragon’s Law
Nyomi
My nerves were still humming from the moment with Hiro.
His sadness.
His nearness.
The rough edge of his voice.
The way our laughter and singing had clung to me long after I’d left the kitchen—raw, human, and too familiar.
It reminded me that under all the muscles, tattoos, and weapons, these men were just wounded boys who’d been taught survival instead of love.
That was why for me feeding him had been so important. It was a medicine that I’d learned from my grandma.
Love disguised as breakfast.
Healing concealed in hollandaise.
I hope he gets some sleep after he finishes eating.
The guards led me to an elevator I didn't even know existed. It was hidden behind what I'd thought was a decorative panel in the hallway.
I'd passed that panel a few times, and always thought it was stunning—hand-painted with delicate cherry blossoms drifting across a gold-leafed background, their pale pink petals floating in an eternal spring breeze.
I knew from my research that this was traditional ukiyo-e—art meant to make one pause and breathe. In the Edo period, artists like Hokusai and Hiroshige captured fleeting beauty—courtesans, kabuki, cherry blossoms. This panel was clearly inspired by those masters.
One of the guards pressed his palm against a cluster of blossoms in the lower corner.
A click sounded.
Then, the entire panel glided open, revealing steel doors behind it.
So cool.
Another guard maneuvered the cart of food through the opening. Its wheels squeaked slightly.
I went on with the rest of the guards and realized that the elevator car was roomier than I'd expected.
Inside there was wood paneling and a faint scent of cypress.
Soft music drifted from hidden speakers. It was the gentle plucking of strings.
It felt like stepping into someone’s secret calm—a place that wasn’t meant for chaos.
A guard pressed the button for the third floor, and as the doors whispered shut, I caught several of the guards glancing down at the cart. Their eyes lingered on the carefully wrapped bento boxes stacked on the lower shelf.
The youngest guard smiled as he looked at a box.