Chapter 35

**Torin POV**

"The authorisation letters arrived. They're in your brother's office," Sherly informs. "And the acquisition report you requested is in yours. As well, I should remind you that the meeting with the board of directors is this evening."

"Since the CEO of Zenith is somewhere between here and Sinaloa." Shifting my weight to one side, I drop my elbow on the arm of the chair. My fingertips digging into my temple. "We'll just have to postpone the meeting until further notice. Again."

Sherly turns to leave, but I stop her with a raised hand.

"You think she'll like the flowers?" Apprehension leaking into my tone. "Not too little?" Snapping my fingers, making her flinch unintentionally. "I should order more."

"And where would you put them?"

I fix her with her an austere look. She bows her head, dropping her gaze to the ground.

"Mr Moon." Hesitantly, she looks up to outstretch her arm expansively. "Look around... there's barely space to walk."

She may be right. The entire bedroom; a palatial stretch of vast space and superior architecture, overwhelmed by the royal bouquets of velvet roses. From the entryway to the ensuite, the room is ornate with a riot of red roses, muting out any other colour. Only brightened by the treasure of light heralded in by the glass balcony doors and floor-to-ceiling windows. Every piece of furnishing surpassed by the scarlet supremacy. The floors shrouded by the multitude of red, neatly positioned to create the single narrow lane from the double doors to the bed.

"Doctor said she would wake soon." A foulness blooms within that could wither every petal around me. "That was five days ago."

"She has been in a coma for a while. The doctor also mentioned since she received no severe brain trauma as her MRI indicates. Her rehabilitation will be swift and she likely wake unaffected. Since some people would require intense physiotherapy and occupational therapy if they were under for this long."

I lay my forearm down, clutching the arm with a white-knuckled grip. "You should've stopped at she'll make a swift recovery."

"If I may?"

I rein in my frustration. I give my approval with a quick hand gesture.

"You should try talking to her."

My brows slam together, twisting in the chair to glare back at her. "You believe in that bullshit that people can hear you in a coma?"

Reluctance stitches her mouth close before she tears it back open. "Medical science on neurorehabilitation proves that they can. Research has also suggested that stimulating the fundamental senses – touch, sound and smell – could potentially help a person recover from a coma."

I fall back into the chair, staring pensively at a random wreath of roses. "And how do you know that?"

"Clinical doctorate."

I glance at her from over my shoulder. "You've worked for us for years—six or seven. And only now I know that?" A memory strobes my mind. "You were one of Orian's personal hires since I was the one who recruited our private staff. He already had contacts for mercenaries and ex-military that formed our security detail."

"I used to work for Haruki Matsuda, a crime boss that served the Yakuza. Mr Moon valued my talents and, above all else, my discretion. Matsuda was just a high-level broker; my work was mainly...logistical."

I chuckle humorously. "I'm sure it has certainly expanded since then."

"If there's anything else?"

I dismiss her with a flick of my fingers.

Time lumbers by, each hour clawing over the next. The excruciating sense of being aware of every second that passes. I don't know if the raid on Gaza's compound was successful or not, either way. His fate is written in blood, as is Orian's.

Curiosity tempts me to reach out for her. And I do.

I take her hand in my grasp—devastatingly still in mine. So fragile and lifeless, pallid and her skin flakes like the bark of an aged oak tree. I wind her limp fingers with mine. Every ounce of me wishes she will wake up just to break my hand for touching her.

For the first time, the hollow of my hand cradles something profound, an echo of a universe of the deepest truths.

"If you hear this," I begin slowly, crushing the protests in my head. "I'll deny it and make you believe it was a dream, or you were just hallucinating or some shit."

I fiddle with her hand, moving it, my thumb grazing over her knuckles.

"I really thought you'd be dead by now," I admit lowly. "But that was before I got to know your stubborn, hardhead ass. I accused you once of being like Orian and I, fierce in the pursuit of your ambitions. But I was wrong—another thing I'll deny saying. Your strength is something to be marvelled."

I slant closer, settling my elbows on my thighs. Both hands cupped around hers. "Despite everything you have gone through... your father's death...what Sidorov did to you." The reminder stirs up a flash flood of emotions inside me. "You didn't let any of it poison you, a testament of your heart... your goodness. You overcame all of it. And I need you to do it one last time."

I raise her hand to my lips, planting a long, lingering kiss on the back.

"I don't regret how we met. We both know I saved your life and I know you see me as nothing but your captor, an accomplice to my brother's treacheries. Quite literally his partner in crime. But when you wake and I know you will. Given the time, I bet I can change that."

***

"Is this a fucking joke?"

I whirl around, turning my back on the colossal monitor that takes up the entire wall. My fist to my mouth, I pace back and forth frenziedly, wearing a hole into the floor. The techies seated behind the curved workstation bedecked with glowing display screens and state-of-the-art multiprocessors.

"The op was executed with—"

"Maximum casualties, apparently," I interject with a yell. I whip back around, glaring at Ryo. "Including Gaza's entire family. You do realise that the Blood and Bone cartel is practically a militia, an entire army on its own, with extensions that run rampant through Mexico. The soldiers guarding his base were only a portion of them. Before, it was a job to them; get the book back. Now Orian made it personal by slaughtering him and his fucking children!"

I swivel away again, resisting the urge to the throttle the servers in front of me.

"An example had to be made—" The signal lapses, his words cut off for a second. "Doing nothing would have made him look weak. Gaza struck first with a frontal assault. He took a shot at the king and missed. Orian didn't. Every top-tier syndicate knows about the feud between them. The shadow world was watching and he couldn't be caught lacking."

Dumbstruck, I gawk back at him with my jaw on the ground for at least a solid minute. To the point, I'm convinced he thinks his screen is glitching.

"Killing Gaza... yeah. Slitting kids' throats?" My voice quickly becomes hoarse from barking out each word. "Are you fucking insane? He didn't even do it because of a power struggle or exerting his dominance over status or territory. No.... Now we have a war on our hands. Killing Gaza was cutting the head of a hydra. Two more grow back."

I jab my finger at him. "Get your asses back here." I march to the exit, straightening out my blazer with unnecessary force. "Terminate contact."

Journeying to the third landing, all I hear is the intense thudding echo of my footsteps.

I can't believe he would do that... no, I can.

I break in my tracks, tormented by the intermittent images of gutted children. My eyes set on a pedestalled artefact, a priceless vase from the Taisho era—and unfortunately for it—the closet thing to me. I pitch it across the hallway, watching a relic of history shatter into fragments. A few guards sprint into view, alarmed by the ancient shriek of my ancestors. Releasing only a breath of the pent-up pressure still mounting within, I continue anyway.

When I make it to her bedroom. The door swings open, knocking over several stands of roses like a domino effect.* Too many fucking bouquets.* I look up at the awkward-smiling Richardson posted beside her bed. Then my gaze slips down to Hadassah. Shock snags a breath from my chest when her head turns to look back at me.