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There was only one way out of this family—death.
The only question was whose.
CHAPTER 3
Dominic
“Idon’t want to be here anymore than you do,” I ground out between my teeth, Jou churning within me like a hungry flame.
As if having to tag along on this collection wasn’t bad enough, my cousin had complained about my presence the entire twenty-minute drive through D.C. traffic, away from the city center. Droning the kid out was easy, but it didn’t make the experience any less painful.
After we exited Kenzo’s ostentatious sports car, he blew out a breath. “Fine. Whatever. Just follow my lead and stay out of my way.”
I didn’t bother with a response. What Kenzo wanted didn’t matter. This was a babysitting job, which meant our grandfather expected me to step in if necessary. Correction—when necessary.
Taking in the rundown strip mall we’d parked in front of, I frowned. The location was not ideal. We were exposed, surrounded by the constant bustle of humanity. As long as Kenzo kept his temper in check and this Ben character valued his life, we shouldn’t draw too much attention to our visit.
But if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that Kenzo would fuck this simple job up. The only unknown was how.
Kenzo led me to a dingy pawnshop, where the acrid stench of desperation and despair wafted from the building. A hodgepodge of trinkets, tarnished silverware, and dusty electronics sprawled across the window display. The window itself was covered with rusted bars and so much dust and cobwebs, most people would likely assume the place was closed, for the day or maybe forever.
We stepped inside, and a bell jingled above the door. A man with unkempt brown hair stood behind the counter, his gaze darting around the room. His faded shirt was wrinkled and hung loosely around his neck as if he’d grabbed it from the dirty laundry bin.
A nervous twitch plagued him, evident in the way his fingers tapped along the counter, drumming a subtle rhythm of restlessness. The counter was cluttered with crumpled papers and objects.
When the man’s gaze landed on Kenzo, his eyes widened and his fingers ceased their endless tapping.
This must be the man of the hour.
Expecting the shopkeeper to bolt, I locked the front door and switched off the open sign. Kenzo was by the man’s side in the blink of an eye.
“I didn’t want to have to come here, Bennie-boy.” Kenzo stepped closer, boxing the man in behind the counter. “But I don’t appreciate having my things stolen.”
“Please,” Ben begged, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp, “I didn’t know.”
Kenzo chuckled.
I was sure my cousin meant the laugh to be a dark and deadly sound. But coming from him it sounded comical, like he was holding back a cough.
“I wish I believed that.” Kenzo leaned his arm against the cluttered counter and nearly lost his balance when a pile of papers slipped beneath him. He righted himself and adjusted the gold chains around his neck. “Except everyone knows I own the pyrocrystal supply around here. No selling without my express permission, and you don’t have my permission, do you?”
Unease prickled along my scalp, and I stilled. If Ichiro had known this “personal collection” of Kenzo’s was drug-related, he never would have let his favorite grandson tag along. Drug addicts were notoriously unstable, and addictions to pyrocrystals had devastating consequences for everyone around them.
The drug had only become accessible to non-dragons within the last few months, and no one seemed to know how or even why. Ichiro hadn’t been overly concerned, so I hadn’t thought much more about it. I had other priorities that required my full attention.
But as the name implied, pyrocrystals were created with fire, a very specific type of fire.
A dragon’s spirit-bonding ceremony was similar to a wolf shifter’s, except wolves paired with their two-legged counterparts just after a baby’s birth. Doing so allowed the wolves a complete shift from one shape to the other at will. The shifters could also communicate with their wolves directly, and they had no need for tattoos.
Dragons were kept on a much tighter leash due to their more aggressive and violent tendencies. During a dragon’s ceremony, a dragon paired with its chosen shifter via tattoo, which tethered the spirit’s will to its host’s. Subduing the ferocious beasts in this way meant communication was limited to emotions rather than direct communication like the wolves.
The magic involved in a fire dragon’s pairing generated the pyrocrystals as a sort of residue, granting the new charge enhanced abilities when ingested. They were highly protected within the fire dragon community—until recently.
The sickly sweet scent of Ben’s desperation grew. “Please, Kenzo, I swear I’ll pay you back. Just give me a little more time. I’m working on a deal that?—”
I stepped forward, ethereal wisps of power coiling around my body like deadly serpents ready to strike. My voice was low and sharp as my dragon spirit awakened. “Enough. We came for the Sato money, plain and simple. Finish the job, Kenzo, or I will.”
Despite my words, I couldn’t deny the savage joy that rose with the thought of unleashing my power. I clenched my jaw, struggling to restrain the beast inside, and waited. The choice, as always, was up to the debtor.
