Under the Dragon’s Shadow
Jon Fenton, a martial arts student in 1978, vanishes. He’s taken off with a million dollars from New York City’s most perilous street gang, the Flying Dragons. He didn’t care about the money. He had intended to make the drop and complete his final errand for Sifu until he learned of their plan to eliminate him. But none of this deters him from chasing his dream to learn from the world’s greatest kung fu masters. Things quickly spiral out of control. The danger seeps into his family’s life. The story unfolds from 1978 to 1997, spanning from Michigan to New York, Sweden to China, Hong Kong to California.
Under the Dragon’s Shadow Excerpt
“The American is expendable,” Sifu had said. “We use him. Then we bury him.”
Sifu Qiu wasn’t content with controlling Pell Street and Doyle Street anymore. His appetite for power and wealth had grown, and Jon had become a pawn in Sifu’s latest game—international drug trafficking. The duffel bag he now carried had been intended for the Chinese Triad’s Golden Triangle heroin—a million dollars in cash, the final piece of a deal Sifu had struck to expand his empire.
But Jon knew too much. And the Flying Dragons couldn’t afford to leave loose ends.
“You half Chinese, I half teach you kung fu,” Sifu’s voice taunted him in his head. The insult burned as much now as it had the day it was said. Six years of training, and he’d been nothing but a tool to them. A courier, a pawn.
Excerpt #2
The first attacker lunged. Jon sidestepped, his palm slamming into the man’s nose with a brutal shatter of cartilage. The man dropped, blood pouring from his face.
Another rushed in—a boy, no older than eighteen. Jon recognized him as one of Sifu’s younger students. His spin kick was flashy but poorly executed. Jon punished the mistake with a sharp sidekick to his knee, and the joint collapsed with a grotesque crack.
Two more attackers came at him simultaneously. One overcommitted, slipping on the blood-streaked pavement and landing awkwardly. The other struck a glancing blow to Jon’s ribs, but Jon countered with a gouge to the man’s eyes. The scream that followed was guttural, raw.
The last assailant stood fifteen feet away, reaching into his jacket. Jon’s hand was already in his pocket. The dart flew before the man’s gun cleared the holster. The blade hit its mark, embedding itself into the man’s eye.
Excerpt #3
“Show me your favorite form.”
Jon centered himself—breath steady, arms loose. The courtyard fell silent. He launched into the five animals—dragon’s fluid power, snake’s precision, tiger’s raw strength, leopard’s speed, crane’s grace. Then, without pause, he shifted into the five elements. Each movement carried the imprint of every master who had shaped him—years of discipline woven into motion.
When he completed the final stance, chest heaving, the silence stretched.
Then a wooden staff hurtled through the air. He caught it cleanly, barely thinking. Two senior students charged.
He pivoted, staff rotating in smooth arcs—deflecting, redirecting. His rhythm was exact, reactive but calm. The encounter lasted under a minute. Shen raised a hand. The attack ceased.
“Do you wish to know who my masters were?” Jon stood tall, staff at his side.
“I already know.” Shen’s eyes narrowed.
