Page 57 of Five

I want to call everyone I care about right now. And I do mean everyone. Every family member, every friend, and… Rory.

But calling her is out of the question. Not even in the same universe.

So I take a deep breath and leave the room, walk out of the lounge, walk through the terminal, and trek all the way back to the front entrance to my waiting car.

There will be a car. I don’t even need to think about it. And sure enough, when I finally step outside, there’s a driver holding a card with the airstrip printed on it.

So I’m not even allowed to give my name.

I walk up to the man and nod. “That’s me.”

“Very good, sir,” he says in a clipped English accent as he opens the rear door of the limo.

I slide in, resign myself to a very long journey, and close my eyes to ponder the many dozens of ways this crisis might change my life.

Every time I settle into this life I was given, this happens. Every single time. And I know—I can just feel it—this time will probably be the upending I never saw coming. I’ve never been yanked away from business like this. Ever.

But there’s nothing left to do but go with it. I have been given orders and in my line of work, you follow orders.

Just part of the job.

The drive is long, boring, and doesn’t end a moment too soon. We pull into the airstrip, the limo stops just a few meters from the plane, and the driver hastily gets out to open my door. I allow that to happen since it’s his job, and don’t we all just want to do our jobs?

“Have a nice flight, sir,” the driver says as I turn away and walk to the jet.

“Thank you,” I say politely. But there’s no way this is going to be a nice flight and I don’t need to see the look on Chen’s face to know that. Everything about this cryptic diversion already told me all I need to know.

“Your grandfather is dead,” Chen says.

Except that.

“What?”

“Come inside. We’re ready for takeoff.”

I don’t even know how I get to my seat. I don’t even remember taking off. I just know that Chen has been talking the entire time and I have no idea what he’s been saying and we’re already in the air at cruising altitude.

“Do you know what to do?” Chen asks, apparently having run out of things to say.

“Yes,” comes out automatically. But I have no idea what to do.

Damian Li is dead. The only grandfather I’ve ever known. The man who picked me up from summer camp back when I was nine and told me who I was. What it meant. How it would impact my future.

Damian Li is dead.

The head of the Chinese mob. The Boss. The Man. The King, for all intents and purposes.

Damian Li is dead.

And I’m his prince. His only male heir, because my little brother is way too young. Waiting in the wings to take over where he left off.

“How did it happen?” I ask, letting whatever pointless things Chen was just talking about fade away.

Chen looks at me with sad eyes. He’s half-American, but he’s got way more Chinese blood in him than I do. Damian was only half and my mother just one quarter. I’m… an eighth Chinese, I guess?

They will never accept me. Ever. I look way too much like a spoiled American boy. Way too much like my father. And this is just the start of a very long, uphill battle for a job I never asked for, never wanted, and would do just about anything to get out of.

No, I decide. We don’t all just want to do our jobs.