Miah shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the crisp, expensive fabric of her dress feeling like a cage. Across the table, Kyojuro Rengoku sipped his whiskey, his gaze as sharp and indifferent as a honed blade. He was a force of nature, a living legend in the Tokyo underworld, and she was simply the peace treaty, a pawn in a game of power and territory. Her family had promised her to him to solidify an alliance, and he had accepted with the same cold calculation he applied to every other business transaction. Miah, with her soft curves and gentle disposition, felt like a porcelain doll placed in the den of a tiger.