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That was all I’d ever be to this family, all thanks to my mother’s decision to follow her heart rather than obey her father’s command.
I didn’t fault my mother. I’d never known the woman. She’d died during childbirth, a sign everyone took to prove she’d made the wrong choice. Her reckless behavior brought shame to the family name, and she’d paid the price with her life.
So why was I still paying for her sins?
Because Ichiro also blamed the poor, defenseless babe that came from her womb. The baby should have died, not grandfather’s precious Fumiko, and I was a constant reminder of his loss.
The old man had taken me in after my father died, which was a small mercy on good days; a terrible mistake on the worst. Someday, I would give Ichiro exactly what he deserved.
I took a deep breath and released it through my nose slowly, calming my racing pulse. I’d learned that trick to conquer fear and pain during my early years of fighting in the ring. Stirring up old memories wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all me.
“You know better than to come in without knocking,” Ichiro chided Kenzo. “You’re lucky you’re a Sato.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Aaron’s eye roll. He knew as well as anyone what my grandfather meant. I might have carried the Sato surname now after Ichiro legally changed it, but I had been born a Costa.
My grandfather had kept my first name as a constant reminder of my mother’s betrayal.
Regardless, I would have received twenty lashes for the same mistake my cousin just made. Even some of my other family members would have gotten a tongue-lashing.
But not Kenzo.
No, not the golden child that could do no wrong despite fucking up time and again.
Kenzo was flashy and arrogant, his flamboyant attire clashing with the room’s austere ambiance. I could never understand what my grandfather saw in Kenzo. To me, there was nothing but a distinct sense of undeserved superiority. Even his dragon was useless, barely able to keep his charge out of trouble.
Kenzo smiled smugly and ran the tip of his tongue across the gold grills covering his front teeth. “Lucky indeed.”
“Well, why have you barged in like a barbarian?” Ichiro asked.
“Ben, that pawnshop owner over on Rhode Island Ave., is behind on his payment.” Kenzo’s dark brown eyes glinted with promised violence. “I want to pay him a visit before he can skip town.”
Ichiro raised an eyebrow. “You’re not a collector.”
No, that delightful job was left to someone like me.
“This guy owes me personally, too.” Kenzo shrugged. “Two birds, one stone.”
Ichiro considered him for a moment before giving a curt nod. “Very well then.”
Kenzo’s face lit up with cruel excitement as he bowed. “Thank you, ojisan.”
At least the idiot had that much common sense.
As Kenzo turned to leave, Ichiro’s voice cracked out like a whip. “Take Dominic with you.”
My stomach curdled. I should have known better than to think I’d be off the hook.
Kenzo’s mouth dropped open. “But I?—”
Ichiro’s sharp gaze fixed on my cousin and a red hue flashed behind his eyes. He rarely released his dragon these days, but he also had no need. Memories of the vicious beast kept most people in line. “You question my decision?”
Kenzo snapped his mouth shut and bowed his head, but anger radiated off him in near-tangible waves. “No, ojisan.”
Ichiro nodded and shooed us away with a hand.
Knowing better than to argue, I met Aaron’s humorously pitied look. My friend knew I would be babysitting my cousin during the entire collection.
As I followed Kenzo from the room, my dragon spirit—known as Joubunaryuo, or Jou for short—writhed within me, mirroring my tumultuous emotions. Wisps of power coalesced around my body as barely visible tendrils of crimson light that echoed the flames of defiance burning inside.
