Page 80 of The Dragon 2
The Corsican man stepped onto the elevator first.
Reo followed, then Hiro and me.
Behind us, the Claws held position outside the threshold, waiting for the signal.
“These men will have to come up on the next ride.” The man glanced back at them and smirked. “You’re not too scared to ride without your guards, are you? I promise I do not bite.”
I smiled, slow and deliberate. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about being on the elevator withus, because unfortunately. . .we do bite.”
Hiro let out a low, guttural snarl.
The man blinked, and that smirk faltered for a breath.
The doors slid shut.
Reo chuckled under his breath.
The elevator rose.
Hiro sucked on that lollipop.
Reo checked his watch for the time.
The Corsican man faced forward, trying not to fidget and failed.
When the elevator eased to a stop, the doors slid open with a hiss.
The man stepped out first and gestured with one hand.
I spotted a long, dimly lit corridor lined with priceless statues and polished wood. At the very end stood a set of black double doors, polished like obsidian and flanked by more guards in blue.
The man spoke. “The Butcher is waiting for you there.”
We stepped off in unison, but Hiro paused, tilted his head toward the man, pulled out the lollipop, and blew him a slow kiss. “Guess I’ll bite you next time.”
The man flinched—just slightly—then cleared his throat and looked away, pretending not to notice the grin that curved Hiro’s mouth.
We moved down the corridor, and behind us, the elevator doors whispered shut again.
Reo snickered one more time, which was a world record for him.
Hiro put the lollipop back in his mouth, crunched on it, and spoke between bites. "So, you’re saying, Reo, if we make this deal, it might look like power, but we’re actually walking into ruin?"
Reo nodded. "If we’re not careful."
"Then we’ll be careful." I kept my focus on the black door ahead.
"That’s the thing about Faustian pacts, Kenji," Reo sighed. "They never feel dangerous in the beginning. They feel like winning. We just should never forget that."
I said nothing.
Because he was right. Because even now, I could feel the thrill threading through my spine. Power. Proximity. The momentum of strategy and war. And beneath it all. . . a tick.
A clock.
Finishing the lollipop, Hiro placed the stick in his pocket. “Why do you think the Butcher picked this venue for the meeting?”
Reo’s expression went neutral. “Opera is all about pretending. Lovers, gods, kings—none of them real. Just men playing roles until someone bleeds onstage.”
