Chapter 26 The Tiger’s True Test
Chapter twenty-six
The Tiger’s True Test
Nyomi
Kenji stopped just as we reached the threshold of the meeting room. His hand wrapped gently around my waist and then he pulled me closer to him and leaned in.
"Tora," he whispered. "Before we start, do your magic. Check my Claws and Fangs. Make sure they're not spies."
My pulse spiked.
Not from fear, but from the sudden, crushing weight of what he was asking. These weren't suspects in an interrogation room with cops outside.
These were Kenji's inner circle.
His brothers.
His blades.
And he was asking me to find out which one might stab him in the back.
If I was wrong?
Someone innocent bleeds.
If I missed the traitor?
Kenji bleeds.
I forced my voice to steady. "Okay."
But my hands curled into fists at my sides, fingernails biting crescents into my palms.
This was the true test.
Not the one in the bedroom.
This one mattered.
His hand slipped away from my waist. “I’ll give you time. Reo and I will remain here. Nod at me when you are done.”
Then he stepped back and let me pass.
I drew in a breath that didn’t fully reach my lungs. Pressure curled tight in my chest.
I stepped inside as Reo and Kenji stayed in the doorway.
Fuck. This space is huge.
I thought Sako had shown me the whole house, but I had not seen this meeting room.
Wow.
The space was enormous. Cathedral ceilings stretched twenty-five feet high, adorned with crystal chandeliers that cast warm gold light across everything.
The walls were covered in deep burgundy silk panels, gold-threaded dragons were woven into the fabric so intricately they seemed to move when the light shifted.
The floor was polished black marble, reflecting everything like dark water.
And the table.
Jesus.
Ebony wood, easily seating thirty people, with hand-carved legs that looked like works of art.
Each chair was black leather, high-backed, custom-made and probably cost more than a car.
One wall was entirely windows, floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the island.
A side table held bottles of premium sake and whiskey.
Pale blush orchids sat in the center of the table.
The air smelled of sandalwood, aged wood, leather, and money.
This room must have cost more than most people's houses.
This was wealth. Real, tangible, overwhelming wealth.
And power.
Because it wasn't just the room.
It was the men inside it.
Nine men who could kill without hesitation.
The Fangs sat on one side of the table.
The Claws sat on the other. And I caught the Claws exchanging a look, the kind that carried an entire conversation without sound—about me, about Kenji, about what my presence meant in here.
Before assessing the men, I glanced over my shoulder.
Sako appeared in the doorway. Today, he wore another white uniform.
Utterly immaculate. High collar sharp. Posture straight but soft-spoken.
Hair smoothed perfectly. Ever much, the butler’s son who grew up alongside Kenji, tidying up Kenji’s stuffed animals, folding napkins, and learning grace before rebellion.
He bowed to Kenji first—deep, flawless.
Then, Sako turned to Reo, and the Roar murmured some instruction.
Sako respectfully nodded and rushed off.
Meanwhile, Kenji was watching only me and waiting for my nod. I’d never realized how lonely power could look on a man until I saw Kenji waiting for that signal, trusting me with the thing he trusted no one else with—his family, his inner circle.
If anybody in here was the traitor. . .it would break his fucking heart.
Alright. Get back to work.
I took a few steps inside and did a quick assessment of the Fangs first.
My pulse thudded low in my throat.
I locked onto Kaoru and studied the micro-flutter at his left eyelid when our gazes met.
His pupils didn't dilate.
No fear.
No attraction.
Just that deadly stillness of a predator deciding if I was prey or rival.
Not the spy. A spy would've blinked first.
Plus, Kaoru lounged in his chair. That long pink hair flowed over one shoulder. He was beautiful. Heartbreak-handsome. Cheekbones too sharp, lips too full. The kind of man who could ruin a life with a smile and then apologize with a kiss.
I looked at those two tiny hearts inked under his jaw as well as the two studs in his ear—one diamond and the other ruby.
Are his two girlfriends on the island too? Probably.
I studied his eyes, because from the test I’d learned that lies showed there first with him. But when his gaze slid over me and settled, steady and direct, there was no stutter in it.
No lie.
No guilt.
Just. . .instant, lethal readiness.
Yep. I’m certain. Kaoru isn’t the spy.
Yoichi sat next to Kaoru, bald head catching the warm chandelier glow. His fingers drifted over the smooth skin in a habitual, almost meditative motion.
As always, the silver wolf tooth charm hung low against his chest, gleaming above his open designer jacket.
His rifle case rested against his chair, as casual as someone setting down a briefcase.
But Yoichi wasn’t casual.
He was art.
Sharp, silent art.
I checked his breathing.
Deep.
Rhythmic.
Controlled.
He watched me like he was composing a poem about my heartbeat, and I realized that he probably could. Even more, he could probably count my pulse from across the room, calculate my stress level from the subtle rise and fall of my chest.
He’s good.
His lips curved slightly, acknowledging what we both knew: we saw each other clearly.
A human lie detector recognizing another human lie detector.
Spies hid in shadows.
Yoichi sat in full view, rifle case displayed like a calling card, wolf tooth charm catching light like a deliberate target. Too exposed to be hiding anything.
He’s clear.
I went to Rin. He sat third from the left, dressed entirely in white, elegant from throat to ankle. His waist-length hair was braided down his back.
Mr. Royalty.
Rin didn't blink when I looked at him, and he still had that bored disdain that he'd had during the test when he admitted to fucking women with silk bags over their faces.
Hmmm. Could he be the spy?
His boredom made me think it wasn’t him.
Guilty people performed interest—asked questions, made eye contact, tried to seem helpful. Innocent people who didn't care to prove themselves? They looked bored.
Rin's expression hadn't changed since the bedroom test.
Same cool disinterest.
Same aristocratic disdain.
No performance.
No effort to seem loyal or invested. Just. . .presence. Like he was here because he chose to be, not because he needed to prove anything.
I also considered the fact that he wasn't far from the throne—a prince without a kingdom who'd chosen the Dragon as his new dynasty.
Men like Rin didn't betray down. They betrayed up. They'd already lost power once. They wouldn't risk it again for someone weaker than who they'd chosen. And the Fox was weaker than Kenji.
If Rin betrayed Kenji, it would be for someone much higher than the Dragon.
He’s not the spy.
Last was Satoshi.
Satoshi didn't blink when I looked at him. Not even once. I counted seven seconds of direct eye contact.
No flutter.
No shift.
Most people always had a tell. A twitch at the corner. A swallow to compensate for dry eyes.
Satoshi had neither.
Either he's innocent and his body knows it. Or he's the best liar in the room and I won't catch him here.
His posture alone could’ve cut marble. Back “welded straight,” shoulders squared like he’d been born on a battlefield. His black hair was neat, buzzed on the sides, longer on top.
Scarred knuckles.
Scarred neck.
Scarred cheeks.
When I looked at him, he scratched at his back, appearing absolutely miserable.
We have to get him a specialist to deal with that water allergy. It must be horrifying.
I continued to look at him, and still he didn’t blink.
Not even once.
My senses calmed.
Because Satoshi’s tell was the opposite of Kaoru’s—too much blinking meant he was lying.
Right now?
Nothing.
Total stillness.
Total focus.
He scratched his cheek once, a quick, suppressed gesture—like he refused to indulge whatever itch tormented him. The faintest irritation flickered across his features, but it wasn’t at me.
A glass of milk sat in front of him.
The Fangs are loyal so far, but I’m going to keep on watching them.
I looked to the other side of the table.
My nerves frazzled.
The Claws.
I’d seen them in Kenji’s war room, but hadn’t gotten an official introduction just yet.
Right now, every single one of them was looking at me.
Assessing.
Measuring.
Deciding if I belonged here.
The weight of their gazes was almost physical.
Up close, they were sharper than I remembered from the war room—like danger had tailored itself into human silhouettes and taken seats in custom leather chairs.
Each man sat with perfect discipline, backs straight, attention fixed on me.
No smirks.
No curiosity.
Just quiet calculation.
I didn’t see a problem yet.
But that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.
I curled my fingers lightly at my side. I needed Kenji to start the introductions so I could see their reactions.
Alright. This is good for now.
I turned back to Kenji and gave a small nod.
The Dragon headed over, and his presence filled the room, not with noise or motion, but with absolute power. It was so hard to explain. He didn’t need to demand obedience, he simply inspired it. All of these killers turned to him and there was nothing but respect in their eyes.
Reo followed, and that same respect from the men landed on him too.
Once Kenji and Reo got to me, they both leaned my way.
Kenji’s voice had a nervous edge. “Anything?”
“Not with the Fangs, but I need to be around the Claws for a little longer.”
Reo nodded. “I’ll introduce you.”
“Perfect.”
Fuck. I hope none of the Claws are spies.