Chapter 37 Tunnels of Orgasms #2
Thankfully, no one did.
They were too far gone.
Lost in each other.
Lost in whatever drugs the Depths had fed them.
Lost in the red light, bass, and the bodies pressed against theirs.
The world outside these walls didn't exist for them.
War didn't exist.
We passed through like ghosts through a fever dream, and I held my breath until we reached the other side.
We left the space and walked down a hallway with closed doors.
Hiroko’s voice grew shaky. “If your father is here, he would be in the VIP apartments. We’ll have to go down this hall and then make a right. There will definitely be more guards that way.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “You’re doing good.”
The hallway got narrower.
Darker.
The music faded slightly, replaced by the sound of our boots and our breathing.
We turned the corner, and six men were in the hallway.
All fox brands, armed, and turning toward us at once.
Daisuke moved first, shoving past us and launching his knife before anyone could blink.
Fast, the tip buried itself in the first guard's eye socket with a sound like a boot in wet mud. The man dropped straight to the floor.
"Two." Daisuke was already sprinting to retrieve his blade.
Kaede blew past him and blurred to the guards. The second guard raised his gun. Kaede caught his wrist mid-aim and snapped it sideways.
The gun clattered to the floor. Before the guard could scream, Kaede drove his elbow into his temple so hard the man's feet left the ground. He hit the wall and slid down it, eyes rolled back.
The third guard swung at Kaede with a baton. Kaede ducked under it, came up inside the man's reach, and slammed the heel of his palm into his throat.
Cartilage collapsed. The guard clutched his neck, mouth gaping like a fish, and Kaede grabbed his head and put it through the wall. Plaster cracked and caved. The guard hung there, half-embedded, twitching.
"Four." Kaede pulled him out of the wall and let him drop.
Toma finally got his opening. He charged the fourth guard, tackled him to the ground, and wrapped both hands around his throat. The guard thrashed, clawing at Toma's forearms, kicking at the floor.
Kaede was already on the fifth guard, driving the man’s face into his own raised knee. Teeth and blood sprayed. The guard crumpled, and Kaede stomped on his neck before he hit the ground.
Daisuke spun his knife at the sixth guard as he raced away. The blade hit the runner between the shoulder blades. The man arched backward, stumbled two steps, and collapsed face-first onto the floor.
Daisuke walked to the body, pulled the knife free, and wiped it clean. "Three."
Meanwhile, Toma was still strangling his guard. Toma squeezed harder.
The guard's heels drummed against the floor.
Then stopped.
"One." Toma stood up, breathing hard. When he took in all the dead guards, he glared at Kaede. “How many points do you have?”
“Don’t worry about it. If you ask nicely, I’ll let you hold the sword.” Kaede blew a kiss.
We headed on.
Hiro looked at Toma. “Kaede has five. Daisuke three. And you. . .one.”
Toma spat on the dead guard and followed us.
The twins laughed—the same laugh at the same time, a synchronized sound that was somehow more unsettling than anything we'd just done.
One of them whispered to the other, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Toma's going to cry."
"He's not going to cry," the other twin said.
"Look at his face."
"That's not crying. That's pre-crying."
Toma spun around. "I'll kill both of you and count those too."
The twins grinned.
Identical.
Unbothered.
I looked at Hiroko. "How much further?"
Her bottom lip quivered. “Next corner, and there should be tons of guards. Ones that belong to the Council and guards that belong to the VIPs staying in the section. That’s normal protocol.”
“Then, we’ll be ready to kill them all.”
We turned the last corner, and the hallway opened up to black stoned walls and silence.
“Wait.” Hiroko grabbed my arm.
I held up my hand. “Stop.”
Everyone paused.
She was breathing hard, and I saw her looking around with confusion on her face.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
She shook her head. "No guards. Not one. Usually there would be people here. Servants heading to VIP suites. The lights should be brighter in here too. The VIP section has the most activity.”
“Do you think there was a change like with the orgy room?”
“No. These hallways and apartments are top notch, chandeliers, marble floors, the Council spent millions upon millions in this section alone. They wouldn’t waste their money like that.”
Reo stepped up next to her. "Could the Fox be there and just have cleared the area for security? Making sure there aren't many people around?"
“No.” I shook my head. “He would need hospital staff. We should have at least seen a nurse. And trust my father would have over twenty guards around him.”
“Still. . .” Hiro eyed the space. “With that phone call which was clearly a performance, he wanted us here. I can feel it. But why? What sort of trap is this?”
Hiroko pointed toward the heavy ornate door at the end of the hallway. "That leads to the main VIP suite—one that your father has used many times before his injury. There should be men on either side of this hallway. Guards. His personal security."
She stepped back and pointed at the dark walls. “And these are VIP sex rooms right here with glass walls. To be in one of them for an hour is over $50,000 per customer. The Council would not let them sit empty."
I looked at the empty darkness. “You’re right. Something is wrong.”
Hiro looked at the door at the end of the hallway, and then he looked at me.
I saw it in his eyes. The same suspicion I was feeling. "I'm following Hiroko's instincts."
“I agree.” Reo turned to three Scales. "Go down and check it out."
They nodded and rushed forward immediately with their weapons raised.
The Claws stayed close to us, forming a tighter circle around Hiroko and me.
What sort of trap is this, Father? And what are you hoping to get or learn?
The three Scales slowed their pace and checked the walls, the floor, and the ceiling.
“Reo.” I looked at him. “Be ready to give the Scales at the kill box the signal. My gut says we’ll need that distraction.”
Reo pressed his mic and spoke into it. “Is everyone in position?”
That Scale responded on the other side, “Yes, sir. All are pointing their guns at the Fox’s men.”
“Good. Wait for the command.”
“Yes, sir.”
We watched the three Scales ahead of us continue forward.
And when, they got within five feet of the door, the world exploded.
Fuck!
The blast was deafening. Fire erupted from the floor, the walls, the ceiling. And even though so far from us, the force threw us backward.
I hit the ground hard.
My ears rang.
My vision blurred.
Smoke filled the hallway.
I pushed myself up on my hands and looked toward where the three Scales had been.
The hallway was gone.
A crater gaped in the floor where the stone had been, edges blackened and jagged. Flames licked up the walls. Smoke rolled across the ceiling in thick dark waves.
And the three Scales. . .
There were no bodies.
Just pieces.
A hand—still gripping a gun—lay against the far wall, severed clean above the wrist. A boot sat upright near the crater's edge, and I could tell from the weight of it that the foot was still inside.
Fragments of bone were embedded in the stone walls like shrapnel, pale white against the black scorch marks.
Blood was everywhere. Not pooled—sprayed. Across the ceiling. Across the walls. Across the floor in a wide, dark arc that reached almost to where we'd been standing.
Three men.
Gone.
With not even enough left to carry home.
“Goddamn it. He put a mine down there.” I felt Hiro's hand on my shoulder as he got his footing.
“Must have been a pressure mine embedded under the carpet.” Hiro looked at me. “Are you okay, Kenji?”
“Yes.”
My mind screamed one thought over and over.
The Butcher gave him mines and bombs too.
The smoke was still rolling when I turned to Reo.
His face was cut. Blood ran from a gash above his eyebrow where debris had caught him. He was already on his feet, one hand pressed to his earpiece, the other gripping his gun.
I gritted my teeth. "Trigger the kill box."
Reo pressed his mic. "Kill them all. Now."
The response came back immediately, clipped and ready. "Copy. Executing."
Far off in those glass-walled rooms bathed in red light, the Fox's commanders were about to die mid-stroke. Every branded man who'd been too busy fucking to think about war was about to learn that the war had come anyway.
Good. You almost got me, Father. But best believe I’ve damn sure got you.
I pictured it—glass shattering in every corridor, Scales pouring through with knives and suppressed rounds, commanders caught naked and tangled, reaching for guns they'd never touch.
Some would die on top of the women they'd been inside.
Some would die on the floor, scrambling for pants they'd never pull up.
None of them would make it to a radio.
You scored, but I’m scoring too, you son of a bitch.
Every dead commander was a piece my father couldn't move anymore. And I damned sure wanted him running out of pieces.
Still, that explosion just announced us. Every advantage we had—the silence, the surprise, the invisibility—was gone.
Burned up in the same blast that took my Scales.
The Fox now knew his trap had been sprung. He knew we were here, knew we were alive, knew we were coming.
Which meant his next move was already in motion.
His other guards would be mobilizing and every man with a fox brand in this underground maze was about to get a radio call telling them to stop fucking and start killing.
“We’re done here.” I headed off in the other direction. “We have to get the fuck out of Yoshiwara.”