Reo tilted his head to the side. “Why?”

  “Because. . .he said it like the garden was holy. Like it was breathing."

  Reo nodded. "You knew he was guilty."

  "I knew. But knowing and proving are different things. The police had no bodies." I looked at Kenji. "So, I pressed where it hurt. I told him people said his mother was disappointed in him when she was alive. That she thought he was weak."

  Kenji's eyes narrowed. "You provoked him."

  "Yes. His eyes twitched, just a fraction. He said, 'My mother was a saint.' So I asked if she'd be proud of what he did." I could still see his face through that glass barrier. "He stared at me and said, 'I didn't do anything, but if I did. . .she would be proud because she's with them now.’”

  Reo tapped his finger against his wrist. “The garden.”

  “That's what he said. 'She's with my special, precious flowers. She's taking care of them. Keeping them safe. She always loved tending her garden. Now she will do it in the afterlife.'"

  The words came out mechanical.

  I'd memorized every syllable. "I asked what he meant. He leaned closer and smiled—slow, eerie, almost tender—and said, 'She taught me how to return things to the earth. Said everything that dies just wants to go home.’ Then, he went on and on about how the roses were higher than last year."

  Reo considered that, “Did he have a garden?”

  “He didn’t. He just lived in the apartment above his butcher shop. However, I knew that he had to have a garden somewhere. . .one connected to his mother.”

  Reo appeared absolutely fascinated. “Did you try to get the location?”

  I shook my head. “I had some ideas already. Plus, I was ready to get out of there.”

  “Why?”

  "Because. . .he looked at me and said, 'You're just as pretty as any flower I’ve ever seen.’”

  Kenji's hand had turned to stone in mine.

  “And. . .although I knew I didn’t have red hair like his victims, I was terrified to have his attention.”

  The temperature in the helicopter dropped ten degrees.

  Rage covered Kenji’s face. "You left."

  “Immediately. I turned off my recorder and went straight to the sheriff outside the door. My hands had been shaking so badly.” I swallowed. "Two hours later, they found the bodies behind his mother's farmhouse. Buried beneath the hydrangeas and circled around the biggest rosebush in her old garden. Six women. Each wrapped in burlap, and laid carefully, like they were tucked in for sleep."

  Silence filled the space.

  I had no idea what they thought of me from this story. I’d put myself in danger for money and the adrenaline high of an article. . .but I’d helped too.

  I let out a long breath. "The Ledger gave me a bonus and tried to hire me fulltime after that, but I wanted to be clean of it all."

  Reo studied me with new interest. "You got him to confess without him realizing he was confessing."

  Kenji's grip on my hand loosened slightly, but his eyes blazed with something between fury and pride. "You walked into a visiting room with a serial killer. Alone."

  "Yeah."

  "He threatened to kill you." The Dragon's fire was barely leashed. "To your face. And you just walked out and went to work."

  I held his gaze. "What else was I supposed to do?"

  "Not put yourself in that position in the first place." His thumb brushed across my knuckles. The touch was gentle despite the rage in his voice. "But you did. You got him to confess by asking the right questions."

  "I believe so."

  Darkness flashed across his face. "That's exactly what you'll do with my spies."

  My stomach tightened at the look in his eyes. "That's my plan."

  He leaned closer. "But this time, you're not alone in that room. This time, I'm right outside the door. And if anyone—anyone—threatens my Tiger the way that bastard did. . ."

  He didn't finish the sentence.

  He didn't need to.

  The promise in his eyes said everything.

  The helicopter tilted as we approached the mansion, and the movement made my stomach lurch.

  Or maybe that wasn't the helicopter at all.

  For a split second, I smelled it—wet dirt and copper, thick enough to choke on. The memory clawed its way up from where I'd buried it.

  I hadn't told them the rest.

  How for months after the Ward case, I couldn't sleep through the night.

  How every dream began in a garden where the air smelled like death and somewhere in the dark, a woman hummed a lullaby meant for me.

  How I'd walk toward the sound and watch the hydrangeas move like they were breathing.

  How a pale hand would shoot up through the soil, trembling, grasping. . .

  And I'd wake up choking on a scream that never made it out.

  Five years later, I still couldn't look at hydrangeas without feeling that hand reaching for me.

  It’s okay. You’re with the Dragon now.

  I shook off the memory and focused on the mansion below.

  This time would be different.

  This time, I wasn't hunting alone in the dark.

  The helicopter began its descent.

  Finding these hidden spies terrified me—I'd be lying if I said otherwise. But not participating? Standing on the sidelines while they hunted me? That was worse than any nightmare.

  I'd walked into a room with a serial killer and walked out alive.

  I could do this.

  I had to do this.

  Because I wasn't prey.

  Not anymore.

  Not ever again.

  I was the hunter now. I was the Tiger.

  We landed.

  Kenji helped me out, and the moment my feet touched the ground, I felt the shift in protection.

  All of the guards moved into formation either in front or behind me.

  Next, Reo appeared on my left, and Kenji remained on my right.

  I was protected by some of the most dangerous men on this island.

  We walked toward the mansion’s entrance, and just before we reached the doors, I stopped and dropped my voice to a whisper. "I want to see the Scales' rooms."

  Both men went still.

  "Their quarters," I clarified. "Yuki, Mami, and Hina. While they're not there. Before I ever speak to them."

  Kenji's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

  "Because people reveal themselves in their private spaces. What they keep. What they hide. How they arrange things." I met his gaze. "I need to see who they are when they think no one's watching. That's how I'll know which questions to ask."

  Reo's expression shifted. "Like you did with Ward. You researched him before the interview."

  "I knew his mother died. I knew about the farm that was abandoned. The police had searched throughout, even with dogs. . .for whatever reason, the garden never yanked at anyone’s suspicions. Anyway, I used that information to press where it would hurt most." I looked between them. "I need the same advantage here. Let me see their rooms first, then I'll know exactly what questions will make them slip."

  Reo smiled. "I'll arrange it. After the meeting with the Fangs and Claws. I'll make sure all three are occupied elsewhere."

  Kenji didn’t look pleased, but he nodded. "After the meeting."

  With that settled, we entered the mansion with me walking in front of them.

  The meeting would reveal a strategy that would hopefully make these spies expose themselves.

  As we crossed the mansion’s marble foyer, I heard the faintest whisper behind me.

  For some reason, Kenji and Reo walked a few steps in the back, and Kenji’s words lowered as if he was trying to make sure I didn’t hear him. “Find out if this serial killer is still alive, and what prison he’s in.”

  Reo murmured, “I’d already made a note on the helicopter.”

  My whole body tensed, but I didn’t turn around. Didn’t flinch. Just kept walking forward like I hadn’t heard. Still, my pulse thrummed hard enough to make my vision blur.

  If Kenji found out that Caleb Ward was still breathing. . .he would kill him.

  And it wouldn’t be out of justice for the six victims.

  It would be out of principle for threatening me.

  The thought made my throat tighten. Because part of me—God help me—wouldn’t stop him or even try. Ward had haunted my dreams for years, the echo of his voice creeping through every silence.

  The idea of Kenji’s men walking into that prison and ending that monster’s life. . .it should have repulsed me.

  Instead, it made my heart warm and my stomach twist with darkness.

  That should have scared me too.

  But I could feel myself changing the more I spent time with him. . .I could feel myself understanding the necessity for death and violence.

  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.