Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Slowly, I lowered Hiroko to the ground, yet didn't let her go.
The white flowers were still scattered across the floor. Petals crushed under boots. Stems bent and broken from the chaos.
But some were still whole.
I gathered a few with one hand and placed them beneath her head. Where the blood was pooling.
Then, I released her body but stayed on my knees beside her.
The blood seeped into the petals, blooming outward in slow, crimson veins until the white disappeared.
Kneeling next to her, I checked behind us, gunfire cracked from the rafters. I looked up and saw the Claws already handling the snipers.
Kaede fired. The crack split the rafters.
The sniper’s head snapped back, and his body tipped off the catwalk. He fell through beams of stage light, arms flailing, coat twisting in the air before he slammed onto the stage below. The impact shook the floorboards.
Daisuke’s blade flashed silver. It struck deep into the second man’s throat.
He tried to scream but only managed a wet choke as blood spilled over his collar and down onto the lighting grid.
Toma finished the third before the echo of the first shot faded. The body crumpled against the rigging, then hung there—swaying slightly above the stage.
On the other side of the curtain, the orchestra swelled. Applause broke out. Standing ovation energy for a performance, while Hiroko's blood soaked into white petals on the other side of the curtain.
"Snipers are done!" Reo called from somewhere to my left. "But we need to move. Now."
I would have to leave Hiroko here.
My eyes watered.
She deserved more than this. For the woman she was. For all she'd done in her life. For the guidance she'd given my Tiger.
She deserved better than to die in the back of some fucking theater near the exit of a pleasure district while strangers applauded on the other side.
"Kenji! Let’s go!” My brother shoved at me.
My chest ached. My heart felt like it was breaking open. And I was shocked at how much it hurt.
How deep the grief cut.
Reo kneeled by me. “Kenji, we have to go. Akiro and his men are here."
I kept staring at her lifeless eyes. “Who killed Hiroko?”
“There were three snipers above us, guarding the Yoshiwara entrance and must have caught us sneaking out of the service exit. They’re dead now. Put her down.”
“I want their family’s information.”
“I’ll get it once we are safe, but we have to be safe first. Which means. . .we have to leave her here.”
I’m sorry, Hiroko. So sorry.
I closed her eyes with my thumb, and my hand was shaking.
When I stood, the world narrowed.
The gunfire dulled. The orchestra became distant.
All I could hear was my own breathing.
"Goddamn it, Kenji!" Hiro got in front of me, and his eyes were wild. The same grief carved into his face, but something else sat on top of it.
Fear.
"Akiro is here." Hiro scowled at me. "Coming down the center aisle with at least twenty men. All branded as commanders."
My blood went cold. “I want to kill him.”
“Then, get your ass in the fucking game.”
I looked down at Hiroko and the blood-soaked petals framing her face.
I have to leave you.
The thought made me sick. Made my stomach turn and my vision blur. But I couldn't carry her and fight. Couldn't protect my crew and mourn at the same time.
I'll come back for you. I swear it.
Hot rage roared through me.
I looked down at my guns and switched the mode to both—bullets and fire. “I’m back. Let’s go.”
Hiro stayed on my side. “That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.”
The Scales used their knives to quickly tear through the curtain, slicing the velvet fast. Gold fringe snapped. The heavy fabric split with a violent rip.
We burst through the rupture.
The performers spotted us. Men and women in elaborate Kabuki costumes with painted faces frozen in exaggerated expressions of anguish and fury and wearing ornate robes in red, gold, and black.
They screamed when they saw us with our guns out and death in our eyes.
They scattered like startled birds into a blur of color and flapping robes.
One tripped over his own robe and quickly crawled toward the wings.
The audience saw us.
For one second, nobody moved. It was just a thousand faces staring with mouths open and hands in mid-air from clapping.
Then a woman screamed. All at once, the dam of calm broke.
People shoved each other away, climbed over seats, and trampled toward the exits.
We raced forward and hit the stage lights.
The whole theater opened up below us. Hundreds of seats. A panicking crowd. And somewhere in that chaos—Akiro.
The orchestra pit was directly below. Horrified musicians screamed and raced away. A cellist scrambled over his own chair and ran with his bow still in his hand.
We jumped off the stage.
The drop stole half a second of air from my lungs.
For a heartbeat, I saw the entire theater from above—red seats, rising smoke, gold balconies, bodies in motion—before gravity took me.