The Wolf, the Demon, and Their Omega

Chapter Ten

MINA

My body doesn't fit right anymore.

I wake at 4 AM in the pack house, skin too tight and bones aching like growing pains. Except I stopped growing two years ago. This is something else. Something that started when Kenji slipped that ring on my finger last night—simple platinum band that weighs more than it should.

The boys sleep around me. Sasha's arm thrown over my waist, Kenji pressed against my back running fever-hot, Adrian and Lysander bracketing us like beautiful bookends. Pack. Mine. The bonds pulse with their sleeping contentment while my body rebels against its own shape.

I slip out carefully, pad to the bathroom on feet that want to be something else. In the mirror, my eyes look wrong. Still brown but with depth that wasn't there before. Like looking into water that goes down forever.

My skin ripples. Actually ripples, like there's something underneath trying to surface. I grip the sink hard enough to crack porcelain.

"Can't sleep?"

Kenji leans in the doorway, all sleep-mussed hair and concerned heat. He's shirtless because demons run hot, and the sight of him makes something in my chest pull tight.

"Something's wrong with me."

"Not wrong." He moves closer, careful like I might bolt. "Changing. Dragon blood waking up."

"I'm a snake."

"You're both. And now that you know, your body's trying to remember what that means."

He wraps around me from behind, chin on my shoulder. In the mirror we look like opposites—his fire-bright presence against my deep-water cold. His hands find mine on the sink.

"It hurts."

"I know. My first shift was like being turned inside out." He presses a kiss to my neck, right over his bite mark. "But you're not alone. We've got you."

The ring catches light. Such a simple thing to mean so much.

"Your uncle moves fast."

"Once he decides something, it happens. Speaking of which." He turns me to face him. "We need to be at the courthouse by nine. Then lunch with the family."

"Lunch with the yakuza."

"Same thing." His grin takes the edge off. "Uncle needs a judge to sign guardianship papers. Apparently orphans can't just marry whoever they want."

"But yakuza princes can?"

"Yakuza princes who are also dragons get whatever they want." He kisses me slow and thorough, like we have time we don't. "Including beautiful water dragons who might destroy everything I've ever known."

"Promises, promises."

But I kiss him back, let his heat chase away the wrong feeling in my bones. When we break apart, my skin's settled. For now.

---

The courthouse in Hartford looks like every other government building—all marble and disappointment. But Fukiyama Tetsuya owns it like he owns everything else he touches. He's waiting on the steps in a suit that screams money, flanked by lawyers who probably kill people with paperwork.

"Mina-chan." He says it like we're already family. "You look well."

I look like I threw on designer clothes the pack bought me and hoped for the best. But I smile, bow just enough to show respect without submission. Kenji taught me the angles on the drive over.

"Tetsuya-san."

Something flickers in his eyes. Approval maybe. Or hunger. With yakuza, they're usually the same thing.

"Come. Judge Harrison is waiting."

We move through security like it doesn't exist. Metal detectors stay silent even though I know Uncle's carrying at least two guns. That's the thing about owning judges—you also own their buildings.

The courtroom's empty except for Judge Harrison, who looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. He's sweating despite the AC, eyes darting between Uncle and the door like he's measuring escape routes.

"Mr. Fukiyama. Always a pleasure."

"Judge." Uncle doesn't sit. Doesn't need to. "You have the papers?"

"Yes, but there are concerns—"

"No concerns. The girl needs a guardian. I'm volunteering." He slides a folder across the desk. "Everything's in order."

The judge opens it with shaking hands. I catch glimpses—emergency guardianship petition, documentation of my orphan status, glowing character references from people who probably don't exist.

"This is highly irregular. The girl's seventeen, nearly aged out of the system—"

"Which is why we're expediting." Uncle's voice drops exactly one degree. "Unless there's a problem?"

"No! No problem. Just—" He swallows hard. "The Marborne family filed a competing petition this morning. Their lawyer insisted I review it before—"

The door bursts open. Jessica Marborne storms in with her mother and a woman in Prada who radiates lawyer energy. Behind them, two security guards who move like muscle for hire.

"Your Honor." The lawyer's voice cuts like glass. "I must protest this backdoor proceeding. My clients have equal claim—"

"They have no claim." Uncle doesn't even turn. "The girl chose her guardian."

"The girl." Mrs. Marborne finally speaks, and I understand where Jessica gets her predator energy. "Is a valuable omega who needs proper guidance. Not yakuza influence."

The word hangs in the air. Yakuza. Said out loud in a courtroom where everyone pretends they've never heard it before.

Judge Harrison goes pale. "I'm not sure what you're implying—"

"I'm implying nothing. I'm stating fact." She moves closer, and I smell vampire under expensive perfume. Old vampire. The kind that buys judges wholesale. "Mr. Fukiyama runs a criminal organization. Hardly suitable guardian material."

"Slander." Uncle's lawyer speaks for the first time. "My client is a respected businessman—"

"Who controls the Connecticut drug trade."

"Restaurant owner—"

"Who dissolves bodies in his ramen broth."

"That's enough." Uncle turns finally, and the temperature drops. Not supernatural cold—just the absence of warmth that comes when killers stop pretending. "Mrs. Marborne. You seem confused about how this works."

"I know exactly—"

"You know nothing." He steps toward her. She steps back. Power recognizing power recognizing threat. "The girl is under Fukiyama protection. Has been since my nephew put that ring on her finger."

Everyone looks at my hand. The platinum band suddenly weighs tons.

"Engaged?" Jessica's voice cracks. "She's engaged to that fire freak?"

"Watch your mouth." The words come out before I can stop them. "That's my fiancé you're talking about."

"Your fiancé?" She laughs, ugly sound. "You've known him what, three days?"

"Long enough."

"Long enough to spread your legs for yakuza protection?"

I move. Snake-fast, faster than I should be able to. My hand wraps around her throat before anyone can react, and suddenly she's against the wall with her feet dangling.

"Want to try that again?"

She claws at my hand but I don't feel it. Too busy feeling the shift under my skin, scales trying to surface, something older than anaconda wanting out.

"Mina." Uncle's voice stays calm. "Put her down."

I don't want to. Want to squeeze until things break. But I drop her, step back while she gasps and her mother shrieks about assault.

"Your Honor." Uncle addresses the judge like nothing happened. "As you can see, the girl needs guidance. Structure. Family." He smiles, all teeth. "I can provide that."

"This is ridiculous!" Marborne's lawyer pulls out her phone. "I'm calling—"

The phone explodes.

Not literally. But sparks fly, plastic melts, and suddenly she's dropping it with burned fingers. Everyone turns to the door where Kenji leans like violence in a school uniform.

"Sorry. Electronics and I don't mix when I'm upset." He strolls in, the rest of the F4 behind him. "And people threatening my fiancée makes me very upset."

They array themselves around me. Sasha to my left radiating winter, Adrian behind me with vampire grace, Lysander making everyone nervous just by breathing. Pack protection in a government building.

"Gentlemen." Judge Harrison's voice squeaks. "This is a courthouse. Violence is not—"

"Then stop inviting it." Sasha's using his Winter Prince voice. "Sign the guardianship papers. Now."

"I cannot be intimidated by—"

Adrian laughs. "Your wife's name is Linda. Daughter Sophie attends Yale. You visit a mistress named Candy every Thursday at the Marriott downtown." He examines his nails. "Should I continue?"

The judge signs so fast his pen tears paper.

"Excellent choice." Uncle collects the documents. "Mina-chan, you're officially under Fukiyama protection until your eighteenth birthday."

"This isn't over." Mrs. Marborne helps Jessica stand. Bruises already purple her throat in the shape of my fingers. "We know what she is. What she's worth. You can't guard her forever."

"No. But I can make attempting to take her very expensive." Uncle's smile promises violence. "Would you like a demonstration?"

They leave. But Jessica throws one last look that promises retribution. I bare teeth I wish were fangs and watch her flinch.

"Well." Uncle adjusts his cuffs like threatening vampires is normal Tuesday activity. "That was educational. Shall we go to lunch?"

---

The yakuza compound sits in the hills outside Hartford, pretending to be a spa retreat. High walls, discrete guards, buildings that look traditional Japanese until you notice the bulletproof glass.

"Home sweet fortress." Kenji parks between cars that cost more than houses. "Ready to meet the family?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Always. But Uncle filed guardianship papers. Might as well make nice with your new legal family."

We enter through doors that scan us six different ways. The entrance hall spreads out in marble and menace, photos of stern Japanese men watching from walls. Kenji's ancestors, I realize. All the way back to dragons wearing human costumes.

"Kenji-kun!"

A woman descends the stairs like she's floating. Kenji's mother—has to be. Same cheekbones, same eyes that see too much. She wears traditional kimono but moves like a fighter.

"Mother." He bows. I copy the angle. "This is Mina."

She circles me like I'm a particularly interesting sculpture. I stand still, let her look. Feel her catalog everything from my department store shoes to my dragon-blood bones.

"Water serpent." She says it like accusation and appreciation. "How unexpected."

"I aim to surprise."

"Clearly." She stops in front of me. "You've agreed to marry my son."

"Yes."

"For protection? Politics? Power?"

I think about lying. But something in her eyes says she'll know.

"For all of that. And because when he touches me, my blood..." I falter, my face heating up. "His touch feels like home."

Silence. Then she smiles, first real expression I've seen.

"Good answer. Honest. Dragons respect honesty." She touches my face with cool fingers. "You'll need it. The families won't be kind to an outsider."

"I'm getting that impression."

"Come. Lunch is ready. The elders are eager to meet you."

She leads us deeper into the compound. The boys stay close, pack bonds humming with shared tension. This is new territory for all of us.

The dining room holds twenty people. All staring. All cataloging the girl who thinks she can marry into yakuza royalty.

"Everyone." Uncle stands at the head of the table. "May I present Padilla Mina. Kenji's fiancée and my new ward."

Silence. Then an elderly woman in the corner starts laughing.

"The last water dragon." She wheezes between chuckles. "Hidden as a snake. Engaged to our fire prince. The old stories are true—dragons always find each other."

"Grandmother." Kenji moves to her, helps her stand. "This is Mina."

She grips my hands with surprising strength. Studies my face like she's reading my past and future.

"You have his eyes."

"Whose?"

"Your father's. Marcus-kun. Sweet boy. Terrible at mahjong." She pats my cheek. "We wondered what became of him after he chose love over duty."

My heart stops. "You knew my father?"

"Knew him? Child, I taught him to control water when he was younger than you." Her smile turns sad. "The last male of his line. We offered alliance, protection, tradition. He chose your mother instead."

"But—" My voice cracks. "He never told her. Never said what he was."

"Because he loved her. And love makes fools of dragons." She glances at Kenji. "As my grandson proves."

"Grandmother!"

"Hush. It's not an insult." She returns to me. "Your father hid his nature to keep you safe. Failed, obviously. But the intention honors him."

"Someone killed them. Took their hearts. His head."

"Yes." All humor vanishes from her ancient face. "Someone who knew exactly what they were hunting. Someone who's been hunting dragons for forty years."

"Who?"

"If we knew that, child, they'd already be dead." She releases my hands. "But perhaps between our archives and your blood memory, we can find answers."

The rest of lunch blurs. Introductions to cousins and aunts and uncles who accept me with surprising ease. Dragons recognize dragons, even diluted. Even hidden in snake skin.

"You did well." Kenji walks me through gardens after, stealing a moment alone. "They like you."

"Your grandmother knew my father."

"Grandmother knows everyone. She's older than dirt and twice as stubborn." He pulls me against him. "You okay?"

"I don't know." Truth. "Everything's changing so fast. My body, my life, my—"

He kisses me. Soft and sweet and nothing like the fire demon reputation. When we break apart, I'm steadier.

"We've got time. The engagement gives us months to figure everything out. Who you are, who killed your parents, how to keep Jessica's grabby hands off you."

"Think Uncle's guardianship will stop her?"

"Not even slightly. But it makes taking you legally complicated." He grins. "Plus now you have yakuza lawyers. They eat Marborne types for breakfast."

"Literally?"

"Only on special occasions."

We walk back through gardens that cost millions to maintain. This is my life now. Yakuza princess. Dragon hiding in snake skin. Engaged to a fire demon who makes me feel whole.

"No regrets?" Kenji asks as we reach the house.

I think about foster homes and loneliness. About parents dead at fifteen and suppressants that burned going down. About four boys who bit me and became home.

"No regrets."

"Good." He opens the door. "Because mother wants to discuss wedding plans. Hope you like twelve-layer kimonos."

I groan. He laughs. And for just this moment, we're just teenagers playing at being grown.

Even if we're teenagers with scales and fire and bloodlines older than countries.

Even if we're probably going to burn the world down looking for truth.

At least we'll burn together.