Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161615 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 539(@300wpm)
Fortunately, my father hadn't received any of these messages. My hackers had intercepted everything before it reached him.
But the spy knew she'd burrowed so deep into my heart that I'd claimed her with a word that meant everything.
And the spy was trying to tell my father.
Trying to hand him the perfect weapon to destroy me.
Cold terror crashed through me.
For all my father knew, all his spies were dead or captured. He might be sitting in his bunker beneath Tokyo wondering why he'd lost contact with his entire network hidden within mine.
But the moment he found out about Nyomi—the moment he learned I'd claimed a woman, loved her, given her my heart—he'd come for her just like he'd come for Nura.
And he would kill her with no mercy.
My hands were shaking so badly I wasn't sure I could hold the phone if Reo handed it to me. “Did the spy try to send more?”
“Yes. There were more texts.”
"Keep. Going."
He swiped to the message thread.
She moves freely through mansion. Four-guard detail but patterns are predictable. She spent over an hour in kitchen with Hiro this morning. Cooking. Teaching him. She's comfortable here. Trusts everyone. No combat training visible. She doesn't see threats.
Reo cleared his throat again, which told me there was more.
“Show me.”
He swiped to the next message.
Do I tell them to kill her or take her? I need instructions soon. They say the window may be closing.
The words hit me like physical blows.
I sneered and repeated the words back. “Do I tell them. Not ‘should I kill her.’ Not ‘should I take her.’ Do I tell them.”
“That points to at least three. The person who sent the message and two more people, but I still think it is four.”
"That’s a good guess. Too much coordination for three." My mind was racing, fitting pieces together. "Someone's organizing them. Giving orders. Directing multiple people, but it’s not the person who sent the message."
"You don’t think so?”
“No.” I directed my gaze back to the message. “The phrasing was strange. Not professional. Not the cold, calculated language of a trained operative. It was uncertain. Almost. . .seeking approval.”
Do I tell them to kill her or take her?
Like a child asking permission. Like somebody young, inexperienced, unsure of their authority. A person who needed direction from the Fox before they could direct others. Someone who'd been groomed for this their entire life but still wasn't quite confident enough to make the call themselves.
My stomach turned.
Hina. . .if this is you. . .the pain that you will experience. . .the screams. . .
Reo said nothing, but his silence was answer enough.
We were probably both thinking the same thing.
Hina.
Four years old when she came to me. Raised in my household. Educated. Protected. Loved. And possibly groomed by my father the entire time.
The message sat on the screen, damning, intimate, and terrifying all at once. The spy had been close enough to know my new nickname for Nyomi. Close enough to watch her cook with Hiro. Close enough to photograph her when she felt safe.
And the guards wouldn’t think to get rid of the person because they were part of my family.
"There's one more message." Reo swiped to the final one.
We’re not sure if you're receiving these messages. They need confirmation that you're getting our reports. Please respond.
The desperation in those words was almost palpable.
The spies were starting to panic.
Starting to realize something was wrong.
"They don't know we're intercepting." I lifted my view to him. "They think the messages are going through, but they're not getting responses."
"Exactly." His expression was grim. "Which gives us a window."
"How long?"
"Twenty-four hours." Reo's jaw clenched. "Maybe less. When they don't get confirmation, when they realize the Fox isn't responding to any of their reports. . ."
"They'll act independently." The realization hit me like ice water. "They'll stop waiting for orders and make the call themselves. They’ll fucking do what they think my father would want."
"Yes."
Twenty-four hours before the spies decided to take matters into their own hands.
Twenty-four hours before the spies in my household stopped asking permission and just put a bullet in Nyomi's head or dragged her away screaming.
"Where was Kiko today?" I forced the question out past the rage building in my throat.
“You banned her from the mansion, so she never came back. Still. . .we have people watching her. She and her entourage were in her villa all day."
"You're sure?"
"Positive. She's not directly involved in this message transmitting, but. . .she always could be part of the four."
One suspect, possibly eliminated.
But that just narrowed it down to the people I saw every day. People who belonged in my house. People who could move through hallways and peek around corners without anyone questioning their presence.
People I trusted.
"They're not just watching her, Kenji." Reo's voice was quiet. "They're hunting her."
“I know.” I looked back toward the blanket where Nyomi waited. She'd stood up now, arms wrapped around herself, watching us. Even from this distance, I could see the tension in her shoulders.