Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
“They’re not,” Rin said simply, glancing down at the map. “Not in the way we are. Not in the way that matters. Pest. Food. Predator. That’s the hierarchy.”
Reo leaned back slightly. “You sound like my father.”
That made Rin pause.
Reo’s voice dropped. “He once let an entire building collapse because he believed everyone inside was beneath him. Including the janitor. The pregnant woman. The girl hiding behind a desk with headphones in. Just background noise to him. Vermin.”
“We’re not talking about innocent people, Reo.” Rin countered. “We’re talking about animals. We’re talking about war. And war is not a clean thing.”
“No, it’s not.” Reo’s voice held no illusions. “But if we become so numb that we no longer care who chokes on our ambition, then we are no better than the men we’re trying to replace.”
Yoichi blew out a plume of smoke that curled into the dim light. “The philosopher awakens.”
But Reo didn’t flinch. He looked right at Rin. “I’m not saying we don’t kill. I’m saying we choose who. Precisely. Surgically. Without casualties that don’t deserve it.”
Rin tilted his head. “So, we must save the animals?”
“Yes,” Reo scowled at him. “Because sometimes it’s the cat hiding under the stairwell that a dying woman meets and now her day is brightened. And sometimes it’s the stray dog who leads a child to safety or protects her even. You don’t get to play God with the entire building just because the target’s inside.”
For a moment, there was silence around the table.
Only the sound of the jet engine hummed.
Then, slowly, Rin gave a nod. “You win this round, Reo.”
“I’m not here to win.” Reo returned his attention to the map. “I’m here to make sure we don’t burn the wrong world down.”
Several seats near Reo sat Satoshi with a glass of milk in his hand. He didn’t speak, just cracked his knuckles one at a time as if each pop were a countdown to someone’s execution.
In the rear lounge, the Claws flanked a silent Hiro, who hadn’t spoken since we picked him up. Daisuke told me that they had buried Nura’s body but he would not say where or how.
Hiro’s face was stone but his fists were bloodless from clenching too long.
Sighing, I tried to focus on the map again.
On the Ashen Blocks.
On The Pale Gate.
On the pins I’d placed—promises of war.
However, my hand hesitated over Ironport.
Not because of strategy.
But because of her.
Nyomi and that kiss I took from her willing mouth. I could still feel the shape of her lips pressed into my bottom one, the taste of her breath still lingering like plum and thunder.
She’d given me a precious gift that night—silk threaded with quiet power—that I still had tucked within my jacket’s secret pocket and right next to my heart.
She was under my skin, in my bloodstream, pressed between the pages of every war plan I tried to read. And no matter how sharp the strategy or how brutal the path—my thoughts kept finding their way back to her.
Reo looked up at me. “Kenji.”
I frowned.
“What do you think?”
They all waited for my word.
Then. . .my phone buzzed.
The moment I saw her name everything else dropped away.
I rose from my seat. “I have to take this.”
Reo quirked his brows. “Who is it?”
“My Tiger.”
Reo’s expression flickered from business to something warmer. A knowing smile spread across his face. “Then we should let the men rest. We’ll return to the plans after we land.”
I nodded once, stood, and then pressed the phone to my ear. “Tora?”
Silence.
My heart—trained for gunfire—skipped a beat.
“Tora. Are you okay? Are you in danger?” My voice was already changing; deepening, tightening. I looked to the back of the plane, calculating how fast we could turn this jet around. If necessary, I’d make sure the damned pilot had us back in Tokyo in under two hours.
I’d rain hell if I had to. “Tora?”
Her voice was shaky. “I’m sorry. I know it’s late.”
“Are you okay?”
“God yes.”
My body calmed.
“This is. . .crazy, but. . .I just wanted to hear your voice.”
Relief swept through me.
My grip on the phone softened.
Heading back to my private suite on the plane, I exhaled. “Good. I’m glad you’re okay. And anytime you want to call me to hear my voice, you can. I don’t give a damn if I’m asleep or busy.”
“I hope I didn’t wake you.”
I got to the room, opened the door, stepped inside, and then shut the door behind me. “Don’t worry, Tora. I haven’t slept yet.”
“Oh. When do you plan to go to sleep?”
I glanced at my watch, though time meant nothing tonight. “I’m not sure yet.”
She went quiet.
I sat on my king-sized bed and scanned the space, wishing she were here.
Soft golden lighting spilled from custom insets along the ceiling. One wall held a built-in shelf of rare books—first editions bound in worn leather. Another housed a temperature-controlled drawer of cigars, though I rarely smoked them. There was a glass decanter on the floating console, half full of 50-year Yamazaki Whisky, untouched.