Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
My father had finally worn Chen’s patience out to the point where even Chen was ready for his death.
Beside Chen, Jo sat rigid and unsmiling. She was clearly worried about her sister.
However, I was proud of her.
Before I killed the men earlier, I told Jo to close her eyes.
She didn’t.
Instead she watched me slice their necks and didn’t even flinch.
And now she remained quiet, watching, and probably taking notes.
Duck sat on Jo’s other side and was the only one not dressed for a formal gathering. He’d put on clothes to fight—simple blue shirt and breathable pants with combat boots.
Further down were Hu and Moni’s ladies-in-waiting. They all had on suits—perfectly tailored, dark blue with threads of silver running faintly through the fabric.
Each of them looked lethal.
I checked my watch. “One minute.”
Aunt Min sighed.
I gripped the hilt of Soaring Precious harder, my knuckles whitening as the tension at the table sharpened to a razor’s edge.
Another droplet of blood slid from the blade, landing on the table with a soft, deliberate tap.
Across the table, Jay stiffened and he straightened his shoulders as if he were preparing to leap out of his chair.
That’s okay. I understand. You should defend yourself. I would too if I were you.
His polished calm was cracking, his gaze flicking briefly to the blade and then to my face.
He wasn’t stupid.
He knew what I was capable of.
What I was willing to do.
He’d been one of the people standing by during my childhood and watching my father train me to be a fucking killer.
Next, Ham, the old Incense Master, shifted beside him.
I caught the subtle tension in his arms, the faint twitch of his hand as it moved toward his lap.
Was he reaching for something?
A blade he somehow snuck in, maybe?
A vial of poison?
He was known for shit like that.
I didn’t care.
Let him try. I’ll kill his ass too.
Fury surged in my blood like fire.
My father’s side of the table felt like a dam about to burst.
Aunt Min fidgeted nervously. “Lei, please.”
Ham spoke. “We will not allow you to kill anyone at this table. . .Mountain Master.”
Beside me, Chen shifted just enough to make himself noticed. “You will stay seated. All of you because if you rise against the Mountain Master, then you will be dealt with too.”
A few of my father’s men froze.
Aunt Suzi’s sharp inhale cut across the space like glass.
Duck’s voice was casual as if he were commenting on the weather. “Anyone jumps in, then we’re jumping in. In fact, I’m more than ready to just fight now. Anyone?”
They remained silent.
Tension coiled tighter, snapping through the space like a bowstring pulled to its breaking point.
I was about to check the time again but the orchestra faltered.
Just like that.
And then, they quickly began to play some new song.
Huh?
The sound shifted, breaking into a melody I didn’t recognize—a slow, haunting rhythm that snaked its way through the Sanctum.
What are they playing?
Around the space, conversations died.
Forks stilled.
Heads turned toward the pavilion’s entrance.
Aunt Min spoke. “They’re coming. That must be Leo and Monique.”
Chen stiffened beside me. “But what the hell is the orchestra playing?”
I didn’t respond.
The song slithered through the pavilion, curling around the pillars like smoke, dripping with a sinister, lazy confidence that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
It was a jazz tune—slow, sultry, and dark—like something you’d hear in an old film where death waltzed in wearing a smile and holding a very large knife.
It wasn’t grand like the orchestra’s earlier pieces.
No swelling strings.
No crashing cymbals.
This was something wicked, something chosen.
A creeping melody where every note hung in the air too long, stretching nerves thin.
A trumpet wailed in the distance, high and sharp, while the soft, rhythmic hum of the bass underpinned it all—steady, measured, like the ticking of a clock.
And I just knew. . .I fucking knew.
Oh really, Father?
I let go of Soaring Precious and frowned. “It’s her theme song.”
Everyone put their attention toward the entrance.
“Monique’s theme song?” Chen muttered under his breath. “But. . .you and I were supposed to pick that later.”
A growl rose in my throat as I gritted my teeth.
Father, you kidnap her on the supposed last night of your life. You make her kill. You fucking put together her theme song. Is she your Mountain Mistress or mine?
Anger surged hotter with every sinister note that echoed through the Sanctum.
The path at the far end of the mosaic pavilion remained empty, but the song built like a storm rolling in.
The horns wailed again—louder now, grating against my skull—and my pulse matched the ominous rhythm of the bass.
I stood, rising slowly from my throne.
All the guests in the space rose with me.
Chen whispered. “Lei, you’re supposed to be seated. Now, you’re making everyone rise and confusing us even more.”
The jazz poured on.
Louder.
Deeper.
Each trumpet blast sliced through the tension like a gunshot.