Page 26 of Cruel Devotion

“We’ll send him out the right way.”

I nodded, tears threatening to spill over. “Yeah. We will.”

“And now Lei wants to be my cousin’s friend?”

I tensed.

“Just make sure you let Chen know that my men are there to protect you and that if he has a problem with it, to call me.”

“Banks, I don’t want to start any shit.”

“Chen will do it because he wants no war in Paradise City.”

“I don’t want any war either.”

“Then, make sure my men are in place, and you’re dressed in white.”

We continued talking.

He updated me on my sisters. T.T. had convinced him to buy her tons of treasure hunting books.

Chloe had already linked up with some of the friends she had made from earlier visits.

And Jo had two interviews with comic book stores this week. Apparently, Marcelo had pulled some strings. There would be no doubt that Jo would have a job by the end of the week.

This gave me the time to not only help Lei but get my shit together mentally.

Once Banks wrapped up our conversation, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief that he was looking out for me.

He was right—I was stepping into a different, dangerous world, and I needed all the guidance I could get.

I just hoped that the presence of his men didn’t cause any problems.

Chapter four

A Bubbling Concoction

Lei

The brisk mountain air swept through the medical tent’s entrance sending chills down my spine.

Duck and I had been escorted inside after our heated altercation on the mountainside.

The dark blue interior contrasted to the rugged outside—delicate silk curtains swayed in the breeze, the soft glow of lanterns illuminated the room, and the scent of incense and herbs filled the space.

Lush, embroidered cushions adorned the benches on which Duck and I reclined.

A myriad of traditional Chinese healing instruments were carefully laid out—delicate jade gua sha tools, intricately painted porcelain bowls filled with dried herbs ready for brewing, and scrolls depicting ancient acupressure points.

Once we got on the benches, several healers examined our cuts and bruises. Their skilled hands moved in rhythmic patterns, cleaning and dressing our wounds with concoctions that stung momentarily but then soon soothed.

The heady aroma of herbs, combined with the fragrant balms, began to create an atmosphere of calm, slightly easing the weight of our confrontation.

Yet, it was the ancient rite of fire therapy that left the most profound effect on the space.

The process began with the healers lighting flames within glass cups, causing small vacuums when placed against the skin. The sensations were intense. The heat combined with the tugging of my skin into the cups was at once painful yet oddly cathartic.

Any hurt I had felt before entering the tent, withered away.

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