Chapter 33 The Descent
Chapter thirty-three
The Descent
Kenji
I had my phone out.
The screen glowed in the dim light of the helicopter, showing a live camera feed from the theater box back on the island.
Nyomi sat in a chair with her stylist behind her.
I couldn't hear what they were saying over the roar of the helicopter blades, but I could see Nyomi laughing. Her whole face lit up, and the stylist was saying something animated with her hands moving expressively.
I stared at the screen and tried to memorize every detail. The way Nyomi's shoulders relaxed as the stylist worked. The way my Tiger tilted her head slightly when the stylist sectioned off a piece of hair and started braiding.
I found myself wondering what style she would choose. What Nyomi would look like when it was done.
And then the darker thought crept in.
I was watching my Tiger through a screen because there was a chance I might never see her in person again.
This feed might be the last time I ever watched her laugh.
The last time I saw her tilt her head like that.
The last time I studied the curve of her neck while someone's hands moved through her hair.
If I died today, this would be the final peaceful image. My Tiger in a chair. Laughing. Safe. Not knowing I was watching her like a man trying to burn a woman into his memory before the world went dark.
I love you, Tora. Do you understand how much?
I pressed my thumb against the screen, right along her lips.
Hiro glanced at me from across the helicopter but said nothing.
Good.
Because if he had, I wouldn't have been able to keep my voice steady.
I watched her laugh again.
Get back to her. That's the true mission. Everything else is just the road between here and her.
I locked the phone and slipped it back into my pocket.
My jaw tightened, and I felt the shift happen inside me. I had to focus now.
On my right, Hiroko caught it.
I turned to her. That gaze went to my pocket and then back to my face. She didn't say anything, but there was understanding in her expression. She knew what I'd been looking at and knew what it meant to me.
She put her gaze forward.
Instead of turning away too, I looked at Hiroko properly since we'd boarded the helicopter.
This was the first time I'd ever seen Hiroko look normal.
Today, she wasn't wearing one of her elaborate kimonos with the silk and embroidery. She wasn't in any of the leather BDSM gear either.
Instead, she wore black tactical pants, black boots, and a black long-sleeve top like us. The biggest difference was that a bulletproof vest was strapped across her chest, and her hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the base of her neck.
And there was a small red gun holstered at her side.
I wondered if she knew how to use it and then immediately assumed she probably could. Hiroko had lived through more violence than most of my men. She'd survived the red-light districts, the yakuza wars, and decades of navigating a world that chewed up women and spit them out.
Of course she could use a gun.
Two men sat on the other side of her. Reo had picked her personal security detail, assigned specifically to stay with her in the tunnels.
Both were experienced.
Both were loyal.
Both had explicit orders: if things went wrong, their only job was to get Hiroko out alive.
The helicopter banked slightly, and I felt the familiar lurch in my stomach.
We were in a big government helicopter. The kind reserved for the highest-level officials in Japan—the Prime Minister and top cabinet members. People who moved through the world with absolute authority and zero questions asked.
Reo had called in the favor before I'd even woken up this morning. One conversation with the right person with a mention of my name, and we had access to the entire fleet.
From the outside, we looked like a military escort for government officials.
Legitimate.
Untouchable.
Bulletproof exterior. Sleek black interior. Reinforced walls. Leather seats lined both sides, and everyone was strapped in tight.
I could see five other helicopters through the tinted windows. They flew in formation around us, heading to different landing zones across the city. Each one carried more of my men.
More weapons.
More death.
Reo was up front with a few of his men. They had a map spread out across their laps, and Reo was pointing to something with his finger. Although his voice was low, I could hear fragments of what he was saying.
"There’s another service entrance here. Exit route through the eastern tunnel if we get separated. Rendezvous point is there. Got it?"
One of his men nodded and made a note on the map.
Reo never stopped planning. Even now, minutes away from landing, he was running through contingencies and backup plans for the backup plans.
That was why he was my Roar.
On the other side of the helicopter, the Claws were huddled together with Hiro.
Kaede sat with his back straight and hands folded in his lap. His platinum-blond hair was tied back, and his expression was calm. In fact, Kaede's eyes were closed. His lips were moving, but no sound came out.
I'd seen this before. Every time, right before we walked into something that could kill us, Kaede prayed. He never talked about it. Never told anyone who or what he prayed to. But he did it without fail.
Pray for all of us, Kaede.
When he was done, he opened his eyes and all the serenity was gone.
Daisuke was next to him with his sharp black mohawk catching the dim light. He was checking his knives and running his thumb along the edge of one blade, testing its sharpness.
Furthest from Hiro, Toma grinned. His bright purple mohawk stood up in a wild flame, and the tattoos crawling up his throat seemed to move in the shifting light. He was loading a magazine into his gun and humming something under his breath.
The twins, Aki and Yuki, sat in perfect sync. Both had their heads tilted at the same angle and hands resting on their knees in identical positions. They didn't speak, but I saw them exchange a glance. Some silent communication that only they understood.
Hiro was in the middle of them with another black lollipop between his teeth. Hiro pulled it out and pointed it at Toma. "Alright. Let's make this interesting."
Toma's grin widened. "I'm listening."
The twins looked at each other. Then one of them reached over and straightened Toma's vest strap without saying anything. Toma didn't acknowledge it either. Like it had happened a hundred times before.
Hiro stretched out his hands. "Whoever gets the most kills wins the prize."
Kaede raised an eyebrow. "What prize, Hiro?"
“Hmmm.” Hiro put the lollipop back in his mouth and then looked at me. "Kenji. You still have Chimamire in the armory?"
"The cursed sword?"
"That's the one."
I nodded slowly. "Yeah. I still have it."
The memory came back to me unbidden. A fight in a cemetery three years ago.
One of our enemies had ambushed us in the dark, and the battle had spilled between the gravestones. By the time we'd finished, bodies were scattered across the sacred ground, and blood had soaked into the earth.
That's when I'd seen it.
Chimamire.
The sword had been sticking straight up out of a man's head. The blade had gone clean through his skull and embedded itself in the ground beneath him. The handle gleamed in the moonlight, and something about it had called to me.
I went for it.
Reo had told me not to take it. "We shouldn't touch anything from a cemetery, Kenji. Especially not a weapon that's been used to kill on holy ground."
But I'd taken it anyway.
And from that night on, the sword had been strange.
Any time blood touched the blade, it never washed off. The stains would darken and spread, seeping into the metal like it was drinking the blood.
People who held it claimed they could hear it talking to them in voices that came from somewhere else.
I'd never heard it myself, but I also didn't use swords.
In the end, I kept Chimamire locked in the armory because Reo wasn't comfortable with me taking it out. He said it carried too many restless spirits.
Meanwhile, I found it funny that Hiro was about to just hand it over to whoever won their little contest.
Hiro turned back to the Claws. "First place gets Chimamire. Second place gets bragging rights and a special meal from the Tiger."
I sighed.
Daisuke actually smiled. It was rare to see any expression on his face, but the idea of a haunted blade or my Tiger’s meal clearly appealed to him.
One of the twins spoke, “And if we win together?”
Hiro shrugged. “You both get first and second place.”
“Bullshit.” Daisuke pointed his knife at them. “We don’t get team points. You two are getting judged separately.”
One twin sneered, “That’s not fair.”
“We’re a team.” The other nodded.
Daisuke was about to argue, but Toma laughed. "It doesn’t matter. I'm taking that sword home tonight and enjoying a nice meal with the Dragon’s Heart later this week."
I sneered.
No one noticed.
"Like hell you are," Daisuke muttered.
The twins exchanged another glance and nodded in unison. Then, one twin cracked his knuckles. The other flinched at the sound. It was the only difference I'd ever consistently noticed between them, and I still didn't know which one cracked and which one flinched.
Hiro put the lollipop back in his mouth and leaned back in his seat. "Regardless, our biggest prize is going to be the cocktail party this evening hosted by our Tiger."
I rolled my eyes.
Our Tiger. I can’t wait until this goddamn party is done.
Hiro caught my expression and grinned around the lollipop. "What? She said she's cooking for all of us. That makes her ours too."
"She's mine."
"She's our Tiger," Hiro corrected. "You just get to fuck her."
Kaede coughed into his fist. Toma snorted. Even Daisuke's mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile.
I stared at Hiro. "You're pushing it."
Hiro raised his hands. "I'm just stating facts, brother. I apologize for any perceived disrespect."