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)
I sipped slowly, letting the taste coat my tongue, imagining it was thick, metallic, and hot from the very veins of the monster seated across from me.
My eyes never left his and my father watched me with the kind of intensity that could shatter stone.
There was no love in his eyes.
No warmth.
Only hate—pure and unyielding, a bottomless pit that reflected my own feelings for him.
That gaze was supposed to be a relentless assault meant to unnerve me.
It didn’t.
He’d taught me that same move.
Plus, that gaze fueled the fire burning in my chest—a fire that had been ignited long before this night.
Remember. The more unpredictable I am, the more he loses control of his game.
I shifted slightly and slid my arm behind Moni’s chair in a gesture so casual it might have gone unnoticed—except it didn’t.
My father’s eyes darted to the movement and his jaw tightened.
You should stop looking this way. It’s bad to drool after something you can never have.
I leaned in close, my hand resting lightly on the bare skin of Moni’s shoulder. My thumb brushed a slow, possessive path along her collarbone.
Her breath hitched, just enough for me to notice.
She’s all mine.
The dancers blurred in my periphery.
My father’s jaw clenched. The muscle ticked just beneath his weathered skin.
His hands rested on the table but I knew better. They were weapons, always ready to strike.
And yet, they trembled.
Just slightly, but enough.
Oooo. I really pissed you off. Even better.
Smiling at him, I lowered the glass, setting it back onto the table with care.
His eyes followed the movement and then they flicked, just for a moment, to Moni’s hand resting lightly on her lap.
The ring.
I held in my chuckle.
His fury rose, darkening the very space between us.
Next, he put his gaze on my mother’s ring.
He still hadn’t removed it from the bowl of dumplings. I knew he wouldn’t—not here, not in front of all these people. To touch it, to acknowledge it, would have been an admission of defeat.
And he would never admit defeat.
But my mother’s ring sitting disrespectfully in the bowl was killing him.
You didn’t predict that either. Did you?
I winked at him.
My father’s composure cracked—minute fractures spreading across the polished mask he’d worn for decades. I could see it in the tight set of his jaw, the barely restrained fury in his eyes.
The Grand Mountain Master was crumbling.
And I was the one holding the hammer.
The move of dropping my mother’s ring into his bowl had been designed not to wound but to enrage.
My father’s greatest weakness was his pride.
He thrived on respect.
Demanded it.
To strip him of it—publicly, no less—was to rip the ground from beneath his feet.
His lips raised into a sneer before he fixed his face back to that deceptive mask of calm.
Oh yeah. You are fucking very close to losing it.
I leaned back in my chair, forcing myself to appear at ease, though every muscle in my body screamed to rip his fucking head off.
This wasn’t just about power or respect.
This was about revenge.
My father had taken my sister from me. He’d taken Chanel and Romeo. All of them had been slaughtered in cold blood. They were gone, their lives snuffed out like candles in the wind, and the man who had done it sat before me.
But even more, Father. You took Moni away from me and forced her to kill. You fucking gave her living nightmares that will haunt her for the rest of her life.
So perhaps this was about more than revenge.
Maybe, this was all about love—one so intense it consumed and collided with any person or anything trying to destroy it.
The music rose and the dancers began to spin closer to us.
Chen called more men over to surround our table.
They hurried and guarded the space.
I felt Moni’s hand slip onto my thigh under the table.
I covered her hand with mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of her skin seeped into my flesh, grounding me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to feel it—the lushness of her love.
My father’s gaze flicked to her, then back to me, and I saw the flicker of something dark in his eyes.
Jealousy?
Anger?
Fear?
It didn’t matter.
Let him feel all of those and more. Let him choke on them.
I kept my breathing even as the fingers on my free hand drummed an unassuming rhythm against the table. I could feel the heaviness of his glare pressing down on me, but I didn’t acknowledge it.
That would give him power and I had no intention of offering him even a sliver of control tonight.
My father put his attention back on the ring decorating Moni’s finger.
I leaned back in my chair, allowing the faintest smirk to tug at my lips. “You don’t seem to be enjoying your feast, Father.”
His eyes snapped back to mine and the hatred there was almost beautiful in its purity. “I’m savoring every moment.”