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)
There are no lambs to slaughter here. Only wolves.
I grabbed another dumpling and ate it.
Starved, angry wolves with dripping canines.
I let out a long breath.
Lei’s audacity had shifted my carefully planned out chessboard, leaving my moves scattered like pieces after a clumsy hand had swept them aside.
Usually, I could predict him and the others easily.
Tonight. . .his decision to storm the pavilion and take Monique away from me, had been unthinkable.
Un-fucking-predictable!
I shifted my gaze to Rowe Street Mob and Dima, seated at tables far from the main platform.
Their presence symbolized Lei’s brazen disregard for our traditions.
Dima had his small notebook open and was scribbling in it. His eyes flicked to me occasionally as though he were documenting my every move.
Between Banks and Marcelo, Jo sat. They had positioned her like a buffer, but it was clear she was being protected and monitored from all sides.
Gunner leaned back in his chair with one hand resting on the table and his body angled slightly toward her like a silent guardian.
Einstein, however, was completely distracted. His gaze wasn’t on Jo or even on me.
Interesting.
Einstein’s attention was locked on one of Monique’s ladies-in-waiting.
Which one do you like?
My brow furrowed as I followed his line of sight, tracing it to Fen, seated further down the table among the others. She was laughing softly at something Lan had said.
I put my view back on Einstein. His focus lingered too long; his lips twitched as though forming words he hadn’t yet dared to speak.
She is off limits, Einstein.
My anger flared.
She wasn’t meant to catch his attention, wasn’t meant to be a part of their world. Song and I had chosen her with care to be Chen’s future wife—to bind her loyalty in ways that transcended blood and duty.
And yet, here she was, drawing the gaze of Rowe Street Mob’s intellectual scientist like a moth to a flame.
Trust me, Einstein. You do not want to piss Chen off. I’ve seen his rage and even I shiver from it.
This was a problem for another night.
For now, I noted how the outsiders’ signature green and yellow attire clashed violently with the sea of blue that blanketed the pavilion.
Their presence was intrusive.
Insulting.
This was supposed to be a space of unity, a feast painted in the colors of the East. Blue in all its shades—midnight, teal, sapphire, royal.
And yet, Lei had tarnished this too.
Is this how you will rule, son?
I gripped my chopsticks tighter.
Is this the future you envision? A world where our traditions are trampled underfoot, where our private spaces are no longer sacred?
The dark thought coiled in my mind.
Perhaps this wasn’t the day I would die after all.
Maybe, the Four Aces would be better served if Lei were the one to fall tonight. If his reckless, disrespectful reign were cut short before it could do more damage to my legacy.
The idea settled in my chest like a smoldering ember, refusing to be extinguished.
I speared another dumpling with my chopsticks.
The rich aroma of spices wafted up, but all I could taste was my own fury.
Then suddenly, the orchestra’s music shifted, the soft strings and lilting flutes suddenly gave way to something sultrier. The new melody slithered through the air, curling around the pavilion’s towering lapis lazuli pillars like smoke.
Heads turned.
Forks paused mid-air.
Everyone froze.
And then I heard it—the low, creeping rhythm of a jazz tune.
Monique’s theme song. Did she appear?
Dropping my chopsticks next to my bowl, I rose with the rest of the pavilion, the scrape of chairs and shuffle of feet blending into the ominous bassline.
It’s about fucking time, Lei.
Rage simmered within my chest.
I turned my view toward the mosaic path that led to the entrance.
The melody swelled.
My jaw clenched.
This was supposed to be Monique’s and my moment. The historical event of my debuting the new Mountain Mistress to the East as the weapon I had forged.
Instead, it was Lei.
There they were, emerging from the shadows like a scene from some twisted fable. Lei walked tall, his hand gripping Monique’s arm in some ridiculous claim of ownership.
That lovely gown swirled and swayed around her.
She looked every bit the Mountain Mistress but the crown sat on her head, slightly askew, a small imperfection that spoke volumes to anyone truly paying attention.
Why has the crown moved? They only walked. Right?
I narrowed my gaze at them.
Excited whispers rippled through the pavilion.
Camera flashes lit up the path, capturing their every step as the orchestra’s sultry tune deepened.
The new Mountain Mistress.
Presented by her Mountain Master.
I clenched my fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms.
It should have been me holding Monique’s arm, leading her under the glittering chandeliers, and showing everyone the queen I had carved from blood and fire.
It took all my energy to not take my sword out, rush Lei’s way and start the battle right now.
They got closer and I assessed them.
Lei’s formal attire was impeccable—sharp, regal, and untouchable, but there was something about his appearance that grated at me.