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WORKING FOR THE MAFIA wasn’t anything new for Vyverin. Ever since she’d broken away from her clan, she’d been taking odd jobs wherever she could find them, slipping between shadows and allegiances with equal ease. If she kept this up, she wouldn’t be surprised to find herself guarding royalty before long—though the Lotus Family was about as far from royalty as one could get. Their den, a labyrinthine hideout tucked beneath the city, reeked of blood, money, and the promise of death.
“Oi! Kid!”
A gruff voice barked from behind her. Vyverin didn’t bother to turn—not until a heavy paw landed on her shoulder. When she finally looked back, she met the familiar gaze of Enzo, one of the Boss’s trusted guards. Enzo was a lion, his mane meticulously groomed, and a single sharp tooth poked from beneath his lip as he flashed her a wide, knowing grin.
Out of everyone in the Odessa Family, Enzo was the only one who treated her with genuine respect.
Most here saw her as weak—young, human, and a woman. She’d dealt with this brand of underestimation before, and it no longer bothered her. With the exception of Enzo and the Boss himself, the entire family eyed her as prey, never predator. But Vyverin never saw the need to show her true strength. By the time she raised her sword, her enemies were already dead where they stood.
“Hm.”
She grunted in acknowledgment.
“Never a talker, huh? That’s what I like about you, Vyverin!” Enzo chuffed, his tail flicking with obvious amusement. Vyverin leaned away from his touch, folding her arms across her chest. “Anyways, the big boss has something for you! Interested?” His grin widened, all teeth and mischief, as Vyverin looked away, weighing her options.
The boss had something for her? He already paid her more than generously, and every job too dangerous for the rest of the family landed in her lap. Was this just another mission, or something more?
“What is it?” she finally asked.
Enzo’s eyes lit up, excitement shimmering beneath his heavy brow. Despite his imposing size, he was practically bouncing on his heels, his thin tail flicking with childlike anticipation. “You’ll see! Come on, come on! The boss doesn’t like being kept waiting!”
Vyverin nodded and followed Enzo inside. Her hanfu billowed in the breeze as they crossed the threshold, and she caught the scent of rain in the air—another storm was on its way. Enzo was in especially good spirits, chuffing contentedly as he ushered her into the elevator. He ducked to fit his towering frame inside, mane brushing the ceiling.
“You’ll like this,” he murmured, his tone surprisingly gentle. “It must be hard for you, working here. Not seeing anyone from your homeland.”
Vyverin shot him a sidelong glance. Where was he going with this? “What do you mean?”
“You said you’re from China, right?”
“Hn.”
“Well, we found a plaything for you!” Enzo declared, just as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open. He stepped out first, leading Vyverin down a dim corridor toward the Boss’s office. As they approached, a leopard woman stood guard by the door, nodding at Enzo and eyeing Vyverin with open suspicion.
“Boss! I brought her, just like you asked!” Enzo announced.
The man behind the desk—Vito Salvatore—looked up. Vito was what some called a chimera: part lion, part goat, part serpent, and all menace. Madness glimmered in his eyes, but Vyverin respected him. He understood what she wanted, and always delivered.
“Ah, Vyverin. Glad you could make it,” Vito purred, his snake tail coiling around a glass on his desk. He lifted it with the serpentine appendage, transferring it smoothly to his hand.
Beside the desk stood a child—barely a teenager, and little more than skin and bones. His hair was overgrown, matted with dirt, and his eyes were empty, hollowed out by fear or neglect.
Vyverin glanced from the boy to Vito.
“I picked up this child from one of our debtors,” Vito explained casually, swirling his wine. “They couldn’t pay, so they gave us the boy instead.”
“He’s human, like you. From China, as well. Can you believe it? Arrived just this morning. I must admit, I didn’t expect him to be in such a sorry state. Clearly, he’s been... neglected.”
Vito’s gaze sharpened, his tone almost playful. “I’m not so heartless as to simply throw the child away. And then I remembered we have you.”
He sipped from his glass, watching Vyverin over the rim.
“It would be a shame to waste him. Train him, Vyverin. Make him strong. Maybe, in time, he’ll be as valuable to us as you are.”
Vyverin studied the boy again: his overgrown hair obscuring wide, anxious eyes; his loose, ill-fitting clothes; the fresh bruises marring his skinny limbs. She wanted to scoff. Training this boy would take years—years she wasn’t willing to give. He seemed impossible, a lost cause. Maybe it would be kinder to simply end it now.
The boy, trembling, looked up at her, eyes huge and fearful.
“No,” Vyverin said at last, voice flat. “I cannot take this child. I do not have the time to teach him.” She shook her head, irritation prickling under her skin. She’d rather not be saddled with someone so weak—especially a child.
Vito rolled his eyes and gave a theatrical sigh. “So heartless! That’s what I like about you. Oh well! I can always make the boy work in the kitchen! Haha! Lea! Get that boy cleaned up and to the chef. He’ll learn to cook!”
The leopard at the door nodded and strode over to the boy, who flinched away with a yelp, trying to bolt. She caught him easily by the scruff of his shirt and carried him from the office, his struggles futile.
Vito plucked an ornate cologne bottle from a shelf and sprayed it liberally around the room. “Whew! That boy reeks of the gutter. Anyway, that’s all. I was hoping you’d take him—everyone’s job would be so much easier if we had two of you.”
Vyverin only snorted, turning on her heel to leave.
VYVERIN WAS RIGHT—the rain came, a torrential downpour drumming on the estate’s awnings. She lingered outside, preferring the chill wet to the oppressive stench of blood and death inside the mansion. She didn’t want the smell clinging to her hanfu—a precious gift from her master, one she was determined to keep clean.
Her gaze drifted across the grounds. Through the downpour, she saw the same boy—now clean but still pitiful—racing across the sodden grass, crying. One of the assistant chefs, her dress plastered to her legs, chased after him, both quickly soaked through.
“Velvyn! Come back! You can’t go out! They’ll flay you!” the chef shrieked, nearly tumbling as she ran.
Vyverin sighed. Rain could very much ruin her precious hanfu, but even she wasn’t so heartless as to watch a child die. Steeling herself, she stepped from under the awning and strode after the fleeing boy.
He tripped and collapsed to his knees right before her, sobbing. “I wanna go home! I wanna go home!” he wailed.
The assistant chef caught up, breathless, her brown hair and fur slicked to her skin by the rain. She froze when she saw Vyverin.
“Y-you, please help me go home!” the boy pleaded, clutching weakly at Vyverin’s hanfu.
“Oh my gods! I’m so sorry, Master Vyverin! Velvyn, enough!” The chef yanked the boy—Velvyn—back, but Vyverin held up a hand.
“I—Master Vyverin, I’m so sorry! You can punish me if you want!” The chef dropped to her knees, shivering, her bushy tail drooping.
Vyverin rolled her eyes. “Stand up. I’ll take the child.”
“What?” Both Velvyn and the chef stared at her in disbelief.
“Go back inside, Fern. I’ll take the child. Vito already gave me the right to train him,” Vyverin said with a sigh.
Fern scrambled up, muddy and soaked, and hurried back inside.
The rain intensified, drumming against the earth.
“Get up, child. Follow me,” Vyverin said, already turning away.
Velvyn scrambled to his feet, stumbling after her. “Are you going to take me? Are you going to train me?”
“No. I’m only saying that so you won’t be forced to work in the kitchen.”
Velvyn’s face fell. “What? Then… what am I supposed to do? Can I go home?”
Back under the awning, Vyverin shook the water from her sleeves as Velvyn lingered close, still clutching her hanfu. “I want to go home to Mom and Dad,” he sniffled.
“They’re the reason you’re here,” Vyverin replied. Velvyn’s sobs grew softer.
“I know,” he whispered.
They stood together in silence, the rain masking the boy’s quiet tears.
Vyverin finally turned to leave. Velvyn seized her sleeve again. “Wait! What should I do now?”
She grunted—a noncommittal sound.
“Can… can I just walk around now? I don’t have to go to the kitchen?”
“Yes. Just tell them I am training you.”
Velvyn nodded, though he looked as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “B-but… can you train me?”
Vyverin paused, staring down at him. “No.” She flicked his hand off her hanfu and walked inside, leaving Velvyn to stumble and fall in the mud.