I slammed my fist against Kayson's door. His sister Maya opened it a few seconds later, and she clutched a steel bat. She looked me up and down. "Luca? What? Why is there blood on you?" She let the bat's tip hit the ground, moving aside to let me in.

“Where’s Kayson?” I asked as I ignored all the attempts to direct me to the couch.

“He left half an hour ago. Something worked him up, and they called a meeting.” Maya swayed in place. She bit into her lip as she noticed the hand pressed against my broken ribs. “Let me drive you to a hospital.”

“No—call your brother.” Thankfully, she didn’t question my command. Each word meant I had to take in more breaths, which translated to more pain. The phone rang, but he didn’t answer. “Do ya know where that meeting was?”

“He never tells me.” She shifted and looked away as if she was scared to meet my eyes. She had a secret.

“Do ya know or not?”

“I—“ she messed with a button on her shirt. “I may have listened in.”

“Take me there, please. He’s in danger.”

At the mention of danger, a part of her snapped. She didn’t need more explanation before taking me down the stairs to the passenger seat of her car. She had a rather simple but well-loved sedan. Though, I admit, it felt odd getting into any car other than Romeo’s luxurious V-Series, though the comparison made me feel ashamed. Who was I to judge a goddamn car? I only had my bike because my friends were too nice.

For a while, I let the thoughts distract me. But like the sun always sinks, my worries always return. Bruno wasn't with the rest of the gang, and to track him down, I needed Kayson. Only after he was safe would I consider my next move. We'd be able to handle whatever he threw our way.

If I let my anger grow, it would only burn and consume me to a state of uselessness. To get through this in the best way, I had to maintain a calm head, so I pictured my mind as the surface of a still lake. I forced myself to float above the pain and emotion trapped in the murky waters below.

Kayson would find a way to counter the psycho fuck’s plan. His capacity for foresight and his ability to navigate the twisting political paths made him the best to fight Tristan’s twisted mind. Too much was at stake to try it myself and fail.

Maya drove in silence, and several times I saw her open her mouth for a question, but the words never left her mouth. Those fingers constantly tapping against the steering wheel at every red light. Her eyes lingered on me whenever she didn’t have to stare at the road.

We pulled up to a bathhouse bordering Seaside. Ludicrous, this was a tourist spot—complete with fancy bonsai in the windows. Somewhere folks might go to get the ‘authentic’ Rising Sun experience. Not a place I expected a street gang to be.“What the fuck?” A big red closed sign hung on the door.

“Well, the Seventh Division Captain is fond of this place and knows the owner—“ I waved her off.

“Ya know what? Don’t matter. Thank ya. Really.” I stumbled out of the car and took one last look at her. Maya’s had a fake smile. But I knew the horror and fear were beneath the surface; she was the type of girl to go through life pretending everything was fine, so others didn’t worry—so it surprised me when the false bravado dropped. Her eyes went wide, and she pointed behind me with a yell. A man wearing a Brass Kings jacket crashed through the bathhouse’s door and flew out onto the street. Blood painted his jacket.

I’d run late.

My adrenaline spiked. That oh-so-sweet relief of pure chemical bliss numbed the pain of my injuries, the crazy part of me that loved danger made that rush so much stronger.

I took off in a half-jog to the building as it was the best I could manage. And pulled at my Soul—this time, I got lucky. Three crows burst to life in a shower of blue and red lightning. A grating caw cracked out from them as two launched ahead of me into the reception area.

Past the door was pure chaos—fists flew between Crimson Eagles and Brass Kings—dotted with an occasional eruption of elements. I ducked as I avoided two people flying through the air.

At the far end of the room, I saw a miniature man running across a countertop, and he jerked left and right to avoid the open palm of a Crimson Eagle.

The thick crimson blood dance floor had a habit of tripping people, making for a more chaotic mess. I found that the source of all the blood was a Brass King whose head got bashed in with a pipe. I grimaced but leaned down and took the weapon. Maybe if I got revenge with it, he’d smile from the heavens. With that grim thought, I threw myself into the fray.

Not a lot of the Crimson Eagles had Manifested Souls. They were more interested in targeting the guys with Brass Kings jackets than an already hurt guy wearing a bloody kimono. But as I bashed my way through the dog pile of fighters, they started to shift their attention.

I passed by bodies, ducking under fists, and ordered my crows to tear apart faces and sever blood vessels. This was a fight to the death, and if I pulled punches, I might end up with the bodies. At one point, I swapped the pipe from a broken chair, which I got the pleasure of smashing into some unlucky fucker’s head.

I cast Fickle Fate wide to influence the battle—tossing a little good or bad luck to my enemies and allies. It wasn’t perfect, but the nature of my Soul Ability meant things went slightly in our favor. Like a casino, our rigged odds started to show our advantage as the fight turned around. Each twist of fate brought us closer to overcoming the surprise attack and regaining momentum. The more people I helped fend off a Crimson Eagle, the more that could help me get the situation under control.

Over the course of fighting, I accumulated a small group of Brass Kings. With my new warriors, we were able to press forward to the hot springs.

Blood clouded the water, turning it into a murky red. Eve was waist-deep in the blood bath, contributing with a dozen slashes, trying to fend off a Crimson Eagle coming at her with a knife.

The group dispersed to tackle the Crimson Eagles and provide much-needed support to our guys. I darted forward to save Eve and slammed my hand into my chest. It erupted in blue sparks—which I took advantage of by grabbing the bastard trying to cut Eve by the wrist.

With a quick twist, the knife slipped from his hand. In a swift move, I caught the handle of it.

Using the momentum and surprise, I snapped the blade into his chest. He didn't have a chance to dodge aside, but he wasn't out. I pushed the knife deeper, hitting a lung. The fight in him gave out as he took a shuddering breath; I snapped a quick kick to his knee, making him sink into the pool. Eve looked at me with wide eyes, and I gave her a mocking grin I didn't feel.

“What, surprised to see your hero save the day?”

“They took you.”

“Yea, well, Tristan was fucking dumb and underestimated me like he’s used to doing. Now, where’s Kayson?”

“Backroom, c’mon. Let's go.” She paused as I stumbled after her, the pain in my ribs starting to sink back in. “Need some help there, hero?”

“No, no. I’m fine to go a little longer.” I said, even though my fuel was running low. My crows gathered around. I’d have to rely on them to help sort out whatever trouble the Captain was dealing with.