Mine to Keep

Chapter 13

Yeji's

I don't know what demon prompted me to say that, and I hold my breath, waiting for Ryujin to laugh at me and refuse.

She has never been keen on telling me much about her business, and though she has opened up to me since her return, I get the sense that she's still trying to shield me from the uglier parts of her world.

To my shock, she doesn't refuse or mock me in any way. Instead she offers me her hand. "All right, my pet," she says, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips. "If you'd like to learn, come with me. I have some calls to make."

My heart pounding, I tentatively put my hand in her and let her lead me down the stairs.

As we walk toward the small building that serves as Ryujin's office, I can't help wondering if I'm making a mistake.

Am I ready to give up the questionable comfort of ignorance and dive head first into the murky cesspool of Ryujin's empire? Truthfully, I have no idea.

Yet I don't stop, don't tell Ryujin that I changed my mind because I haven't. Because deep inside, I know that burying my head in the sand changes nothing.

My wife is a dangerous, powerful criminal, and my lack of knowledge about her activities doesn't alter the fact that I'm dirty by association.

By willingly going into her arms every night by loving her despite everything she's done I am implicitly condoning her actions, and I'm not naive enough to think otherwise.

I might have started off as Ryujin's victim, but I don't know if I can claim that dubious distinction anymore. Syringe or not, I went with her knowing full well what she was and what kind of life I was signing up for.

Besides, a dark curiosity is riding me now. I want to know what she learned this morning, what kind of information her brutal methods availed her.

I want to know what phone calls she's planning to make and to whom she's planning to speak.

I want to know everything there is to know about Ryujin, no matter how much the reality of her life horrifies me.

When we come up to the office building, I see that the door is made of metal. Just like on the island, Ryujin opens it by submitting to a retina scan, a security measure that no longer surprises me.

Given what I now know about the types of weapons Ryujin's company produces, her paranoia appears quite justified.

We go inside, and I see that it's all one big room, with a large oval table near the entrance and a wide desk with a bunch of computer screens at the back.

Flat screen TV monitors line the walls, and there are comfortable-looking leather chairs around the table. Everything seems very high-tech and luxurious.

To me, Ryujin's office looks like a cross between an executive conference room and some place I imagine the CIA might meet to strategize.

As I stand there, gaping at everything, Ryujin places her hands on my shoulders from behind.

"Welcome to my lair," she murmurs, her fingers tightening for a brief moment. Then she lets go of me and walks over to sit down behind the desk.

I follow her there, driven by burning curiosity.

There are six computer monitors sitting on the table. Three of them are showing what appears to be a live feed from various surveillance cameras, and two are filled with different charts and blinking numbers.

The last computer is the one closest to Ryujin, and it's displaying some type of unusual-looking email program.

Intrigued, I take a closer look, trying to figure out what I'm seeing. "Are you monitoring your investments?" I ask, peering at the two computers with the blinking numbers.