Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92392 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Go down, you piece of shit.
Far past the tree line, out over the black water, another shell hit the plane head-on.
There we go.
The scout plane bucked. One wing tore loose. Spun away. End over end. For half a breath the plane remained suspended in the sky, burning from the inside and lighting up the dark around it.
Seconds passed.
It rolled sideways and fell toward the sea. Fast. Raging flames and smoke trailed behind it, and the sea opened and swallowed the plane whole.
For one breath, Kenji and I watched the dark water where the plane had been. The waves rolled across the surface. The current pulled the wreckage beneath the darkness. The sea accepted the offering, and a realization probably settled between us like the final stone placed atop a grave.
We finally got a win.
Beside me, my brother's mouth slightly curved.
Most people would have missed it. I knew Kenji and every version of his silence. That slight curve of his mouth carried relief.
A small amount.
He kept his eyes on the water.
Yoichi even let out a long breath.
For one selfish second, I embraced this victory and began to imagine a different ending to this war.
We could win this.
Hope stretched its wings.
But then fear and reality returned. One plane represented a beginning. The war demanded more. Nyomi still remained on this goddamn island. More of our enemies were on their way.
Danger had embedded itself into this night.
The relief faded from me.
The Dragon's smile vanished.
The darkness reclaimed its territory.
“Good.” I sat back down. "But not good enough."
Kenji frowned. “Not good enough?”
“It should have taken one shell. We can’t waste any.”
“We have enough.”
“They’re bad at shooting.”
“They weren’t prepared.”
“We should have been prepared.”
“We can’t prepare for every fucking thing when it comes to war. There will be mistakes.”
“Mistakes take lives.”
“I know exactly what mistakes cost, but I won't trade tonight away to grief I haven't earned yet. Neither will you."
I swallowed. "Fine."
"Fine."
I scanned the island and at least I didn’t see any ghosts.
Thank God. Please no ghosts during the battle. I have to focus.
Near the bend, two older Scales checked each other's vests, tugged the straps tight, and slapped the plates twice. One of them laughed at something. The other didn't.
And in the dark between the trees, where the moonlight gave up, I caught the shape of men I couldn't see clearly at all. I only knew they were there by the small sounds my ears caught—a bolt sliding home, a magazine seated, a blade testing its sheath, and a man murmuring pleas to God.
Could we defend this island and win?
How long would we battle this evening?
Would we still be fighting in the morning?
Would we still be at war for days?
No. We have to end this here, fast, and tonight.
“Hiro.”
I turned back to Kenji.
My brother had been watching me the whole time and his face showed concern. "Akiro sent that plane ahead to map our positions and get a better view of the island. It didn’t work. Now he's still blind as he goes into war."
“He is.”
“That’s good. Regardless of how many shells it took to bring him that darkness.”
“Okay.”
Only Kenji could sell me a win within the hopelessness. That was probably why he was the Dragon, and why we boldly followed him.
He’s right.
That small win grew warm in my chest. It was the first warmth of the night. I just hoped it wouldn’t be the last.
I bit down on the lollipop.
The candy cracked against my teeth.
Kenji set his mask on his knee. He looked older in the dark than he did in the light. The Dragon expression still sat on his face, but underneath it I saw the boy who used to carry me on his back, and that boy looked tired.
"Kenji."
"Hmm?"
I pulled the stick from my mouth and gripped it in my fist. "If something happens to me tonight—"
"Hiro. No."
"Listen to me." I pointed at him with the stick. "If something happens to me, take care of the Claws. They're good men. They'll follow you, but they grieve hard, and they'll need you to grieve with them, not above them. Because I’m so amazing, it will take them a very long time to forget me. Many decades, not years."
Kenji grinned. “Many decades of grief over you?”
“Of course.” I swallowed. "And take care of my mother—"
"You're going to survive—"
"Just in case—"
"There is no just in case." He sneered. “You will survive this evening.”
“I’m just saying that—”
“Don’t.” Kenji brought his hand over to mine and gripped it. His palm was warm and twice the size of mine, just as it had been the last time he held my hand like this, long ago.
My mind went back to those days, and brutal years fell away, and I was five again in our father’s mansion. It had been a monster of a mansion, all long halls, high ceilings, and heavy doors.