Dead-Eye Angels MC (Book #1)

⍲Quintessential⍲

Shanice's POV

Stepping out of JFK, the sounds of congested traffic and people talking loudly hit my ears like an old, familiar tune. Even the smog is a breath old and fresh combined into one. Before I can pull up a cab, a man in a black Armani suit approaches me and bows.

"Welcome back, Shanice-san," the man says, reverence reeking off him.

"Thank you, it's good to be back," I answer back.

He takes my luggage and ambles towards a large black Cadillac escalade. Another Japanese man standing in front of the back passenger seat greats me in the same form. With little hesitation, I step inside. Tourists and people catching or leaving the airport look at me, wondering who this important woman would have two Asians waiting on her head and foot. Moments later, we drive off, heading towards Harlem Heights, home of the Black Dragons.

Instead of enjoying the scenery, even though nothing has changed, my mind still lingers on my father's words. I know Serenity's death has been brutal on my parents, but they have each other. Mom has a partner that there's for her, come hell or high water. She has her subordinates who can easily pick up her business duties. I, on the other hand, had no one to lie on. Well, I did until I realized he was this for ulterior reasons.

Soon enough, we arrive at the five-story townhouse that I grew up in. The place that holds so many memories. The driver opens the car door for me, and the streets are quiet. Perhaps they are whispering that the ungrateful daughter has returned with her tail between her legs. I will undoubtedly find out soon enough from my relatives. Isn't it funny that those who talk the most shit about you are the closest to you? The ones who changed your dirty diapers and wish you well are the first to stab you in the back.

As I make it inside, various shades of white hit me. Egg-white walls, white couches, and even whiter trimmings. Guess mother has been on a designer binge. Seeing the signs of a mental breakdown, my father no doubt called and requested me to return home. The men carry my luggage to my room as I stand motionless, taking the space in and preparing myself for what's to come. Time to play the reverent daughter.

As I make my way to my father's study, I can't fail to notice the quiet solitude that reverberates through the house. No old woman cackling sharing gossip, no maids hustling and bustling, no Black Dragon member. Absolute silence. As I approach my father's door, I go through all the steps to be the reverent daughter to the Black Dragon Oyabun. I knock on the door, and a deep voice from the other side commands me to enter.

Unlike the ground floor, my father's study is a contemporary black office with black and brown furnishings. Behind the ebony wooden desk sits the man I have called father since I was two years old.

"Good afternoon, otou-same," I say as I bow.

However, I did not expect a warm welcome. Even in his late 50s, dad is as vital and as young as an ox. He stands up, and within a few seconds, he's in front of me. His height is domineering, and his lean muscles bulge in his black Armani suit and give me one of his well-known tights hugs.

"Poki, you're finally home."

I clap his back, "I missed you too, dad." Without realizing it, tears roll down my cheeks. I didn't know how much I've missed him. "How are you? How's everyone? It's quiet around here."

"They're busy dealing with the business. And your mother's side of the family is cleaning up the streets?"

I raise an eyebrow, a turf war. What the hell! Dad looks at me, and with his eyes, he tells me he's got it under control. He grabs my hands, and we walk towards the sitting area.