Page 137 of The Dragon 1
I turned to Hiro, eyes burning.
He was straining against the cuffs, veins bulging, but silent. That silence was louder than screams.
I turned back to my father.
My throat was dust and fire.
Nura looked up at me. And I swear to whatever gods haunted this planet—she didn’t look afraid of dying. She just looked ashamed.
That shattered me more than anything else.
She thought this was her fault.
She thought she brought war into our world by just existing.
By being touched.
Cherished.
Wanted.
I looked down at her. “I’m sorry, Nura. You will be free soon.”
She placed her view back on the floor and more tears came.
I clenched my fists. My voice came out rough. “You want to punish someone, Father, punish me. Let Hiro and her go.”
My father smiled.
“You still don’t understand, Kenji. This isn’t punishment.” He tugged the chain.
Nura flinched.
I snapped.
I didn’t move.
But something inside me split down the center.
The Dragon didn’t roar.
He seethed.
My voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “If you want a monster, Father, I’ll give you one.”
“Is that a threat, son?”
“Stop hiding behind a chained woman. Let them go and we will see what it is.”
“Is that how you talk to your sick father?” Then, his other hand moved. The fingers—trembling slightly from age and sickness—slid beneath the silk folds of his lap blanket. When they came back in the open, he had a pistol—small, sleek, and black.
He didn’t lift it.
He didn’t point it at Nura.
He didn’t point it at Hiro.
But that wasn’t the point.
