Chapter 17: The Dragon's Compound

The car is silent. I am not an idiot, so I do not waste my time banging on the windows. I just sit back against the expensive leather, my heart hammering a chaotic rhythm against my bruised ribs. The windows are tinted so dark I cannot see where we are going. We just drive, smooth and silent, for what feels like an hour. I am not just kidnapped. I am being acquired. Ayako is not just a rich girl. She is something else. Something that has guys like Kenichi and limousines on speed dial.

The car finally slows. I feel us turn, and the smooth road changes to gravel. We stop. I hear a heavy, iron gate groaning open. We drive. We stop again. The door unlocks.

Kenichi is outside, his hand on the open door. "Come, asset," he rumbles.

I get out, and my jaw drops. This is not a house. This is a compound. We are in a massive, traditional Japanese courtyard. It is all dark wood, raked gravel, and ancient, perfectly-kept pine trees. It is surrounded by a ten-foot-high concrete wall. I see men in black suits, standing at the corners, not even pretending to be anything other than guards. This place is a fortress. This is the dragon's den.

"Where am I?" I whisper, my voice lost in the quiet.

"This is the Bokumuchi-kai main house," Kenichi says, as if that explains anything. "Follow."

He leads me. I am not an asset anymore. I am a guest. A very, very scared guest. We walk along a covered wooden veranda. It is beautiful. It is terrifying. We pass a massive, ornate door with a golden dragon carved into it.

"She lives here?" I manage to say.

"The Ojou-sama is the heart of this house," Kenichi says, his voice full of a deep, rumbling pride. "You are here because she wishes it. You should be honored."

"Honored?" I hiss. "I was kidnapped!"

"You were retrieved," Kenichi corrects me, not even looking back. "There is a difference."

He stops in front of a sliding door. This one is simple. Plain rice paper. "Wait here," he commands. He does not knock. He just waits.

The door slides open. A woman is kneeling there, in a beautiful, formal kimono. She is older, her hair in a severe bun. She just looks at me, her eyes missing nothing.

"Kenichi-san," she says, her voice quiet. "The Kaichou-sama is waiting. Is he the variable?"

"He is," Kenichi rumbles.

The woman looks at me. "He is messy."

"He is adequate," Kenichi says.

I am just standing there, a delinquent brawler in a blood-stained shirt, while these two servants discuss me like I am a new pet.

"Come," the woman says, her voice firm. "We must correct your inefficiency."