Daishin inspected his fingernails. “You weren’t naïve. You knew what you were and what you were doing. You ignored the truth because of one fact, Miki-san.” He speared Elder with a harsh glare. “You were too self-absorbed. So focused on what others could do to fix you that you forgot about fixing yourself.” He tutted. “Don’t blame others for your downfalls. Take ownership and defeat them.”
“Defeat them like I’ll defeat you?”
Daishin froze, assessing Elder in the split second before peace switched to chaos.
Elder charged.
The two men clashed together bone to bone, body to body. A rumble of determination. A quick explosion of intention.
I jerked hard against my imprisonment, bashing the door in its hinges, wriggling like a fish caught on a line.
Let him win.
Please, let him win.
My attention danced between Elder and Daishin as I wriggled and snapped, doing my best to untether myself.
He grunted as Daishin kicked him in a flurry of high-powered dances. Healthy against wounded. Master against pupil.
Tears ran down my cheeks. I wished I could help. I didn’t want to see this. I didn’t want to be destined to witness the worst thing in my life.
I winced every time Elder was struck.
I rejoiced every time he hit Daishin.
I grew sick with worry as Elder lost ground, piece by piece.
This was worse than him being beaten on the Phantom. Worse than watching him be shot by Q. Worse because I couldn’t see any way he could defeat this man, and he was already dying.
I cried silently as the fight wore on.
Fists swinging.
Legs arching.
Bodies dancing left and right.
They would’ve been evenly matched if Elder hadn’t been plagued with stitches and fever. Unfair, unright, the outcome was already decided.
My tears ran hotter as Elder’s spine curled beneath the weight of trying to stay alive. His energy deserted him swing by swing until he was hunched over and breathless with exhaustion.
Any second now, Daishin would deliver the killing blow.
Any moment now, Elder would cease to exist, and I would never smile, live, or breathe again.
A fast-moving shape caught my attention, plummeting down the stairs. For a heartbeat, I didn’t understand what’d happened. I couldn’t marry why baby Lino was screaming in a black-dressed Chinmoku’s arms.
Blood and claw marks smeared the warrior’s face—the same warrior who’d climbed through the window—speaking of a fierce battle to remove babe from mother.
Tess.
What happened to her?
What happened to the women upstairs who I’d selfishly left and hadn’t returned to?
Lino wailed at the top of his lungs as the Chinmoku clutched him tighter, marching toward the door.
No!
I fought harder against my tethers, jerking and jiving, desperate not to let the Chinmoku disappear outside. If he did, I doubted we’d ever see Lino again.
“Stop…” My voice came out whisper-thin.
The Chinmoku put one foot over the threshold, smelling freedom.
A thundering roar sounded, a streak of violence echoing in the darkness.
Q appeared from outside, bolting into his home and snatching the Chinmoku around the throat. His speed and fury barrelled the Japanese back inside, both of them tripping and stumbling.
In sheer strength, Q righted him and ploughed his enemy backward. He didn’t look at Elder and Daishin as they continued to duel. He didn’t notice me tied to his library door. All he focused on was the man who’d dare touch his son.
It only took a few seconds to turn alive into dead.
Q held his throat with one hand and sucker-punched him in the temple with the other. The blow knocked the man out in a single delivery. Q back-stepped as the Chinmoku toppled, ripping Lino from his clutches and snarling.
The moment the Chinmoku hit the floor, Q crunched his shoe into the man’s throat and pressed down with the blackest, cruellest look on his face. Spools of French spilled from his lips as he slowly suffocated him.
Bored of the game, Q hoisted Lino to his hip, pulled out his gun and bang, bang, bang, emptied three bullets into him without flinching.
Lino bleated and squealed. His chubby cheeks blotchy with terror, but Q was past offering commiseration and sweet nothings to the child.
He was in murder frenzy, and three bullets weren’t enough.
He shot again.
And again.
But then another blur appeared; this one in a blue jumper and jeans, doused red with blood and tangled blonde hair. She didn’t stop.
Racing down the stairs, Tess skidded beside her husband, grabbed his gun, and unloaded the rest of the clip into the corpse of the man who’d stolen her baby.
I had no idea what’d happened upstairs. How the Chinmoku had stolen Lino or how Tess had gotten free. Whatever war had taken place, I knew who’d won, and it wasn’t the men.
My heart vibrated with murder as a final bullet found a new home in the Chinmoku’s skull.
Only once the air was laced with gun smoke did she throw the pistol into the face of their dead baby-snatcher and turn to Q.