Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 772(@200wpm)___ 617(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
I smiled.
Gunfire erupted across the rooftop. Sharp cracks cut through the sound of helicopter blades.
The guards went for their weapons, but they were too slow.
Another guard's face disappeared in a red mist, skull fragments shattered.
My Scales were faster, better trained, and more prepared, moving like deranged predators. Six leaped from the helicopters before they even touched down—dropping from a low hover and hitting the ground in a crouch with their weapons already up and firing.
Bullets tore through throats, sending arterial spray arcing across the landing pads.
Other guards caught rounds in their chest and crumpled like marionettes with sliced strings.
A Scale slid across the concrete, firing upward into a guard's groin and chest. The man's intestines spilled out.
Soon my Scales finished. Guard bodies twitched in pools of crimson and the rooftop went silent except for the slowing helicopter blades.
Our helicopter landed.
Reo looked at me. "Clear."
I reached down and pulled my two silver guns from their holsters. My Tiger’s blood ran along the tops of each barrel in a thin, reddish dark line—dried but still carrying her protective essence.
I turned them over in my hands. On the side of each gun sat a small switch with three settings.
One for fire.
Another for bullets.
And the last was for both.
I flicked them both to bullets.
Then I brought the guns to my lips, pressed them there, and closed my eyes.
I'm coming back to you, Tora.
Sighing, I opened my eyes and moved the guns from my lips. "Talk to me, Hiroko."
She already had her gun out and in her hand. "The rooftop has two entry points. A VIP elevator with polished gold doors and a glass entrance to the stairwell."
"Which one do we take?"
She pointed to the glass entrance. "Stairwell. There are no cameras on the rooftop or in the stair area, but the elevator has them. The moment we step inside the elevator, they'll know we're coming."
I rose. "Let's go."
The door opened, and we piled out.
The rooftop’s battleground hit me all at once.
The smell came first—copper and gunpowder, thick and warm, coating the back of my throat.
Then the visuals. Bodies sprawled across the concrete in unnatural positions. Limbs bent the wrong way. Jaws missing. Chest cavities opened up like hollowed fruit.
Blood was everywhere—pooled, splattered, smeared in long drag marks where men had tried to crawl before the last bullet found them.
Shell casings rolled under my boots, clicking against the ground like loose teeth.
The wind carried the stench of spilled intestines and burnt flesh.
And I breathed it in.
Deep.
My pulse steadied.
My grip on the guns tightened, and hunger expanded in my chest.
This was my element. The place where the noise in my head went quiet and every nerve in my body sharpened to a single point.
I stepped over a body and didn't look down.
Hiro was next to me with his knife already in his hand.
Hiroko and her two guards stayed close. The Claws moved into formation around us, and I saw the focus in their eyes. They knew what was coming.
Behind me, the Scales who had cleared the rooftop were already reloading—magazines dropping, fresh ones slamming in, slides racking in a synchronized rhythm.
They fell into position. Half took the front. Half took the rear. Guns up. Eyes forward.
“We need to pick it up.” I ran, and everyone matched my speed.
With twenty dead guards on the rooftop, that meant a clock was already ticking. The moment the Fox's people missed a check-in or someone glanced at a monitor and saw empty posts, our element of surprise was gone.
We had minutes.
Maybe less.
So far, surprise was the only advantage we had over the Ukiyo Council and my father. We needed to keep it.
The rooftop entrance was a glass door that led into the building.
Reo got there first and yanked it open.
We rushed through and entered the stairwell.
Down one flight.
Then another.
The sound of our boots echoed.
“Don’t go any further. There’s a camera on the next flights.” Hiroko pointed to the left. “We take this door.”
We did and hit a hallway with sterile white walls and fluorescent lights. The service space was definitely designed to be forgettable.
“We’re close to the service elevator.” Hiroko pointed left again and got next to me.
With our guns out, we followed her to a service door at the end of the corridor. She pulled out the bronze key. Her hands shook.
I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Take your time and breathe.”
She let out a long breath, slid the bronze key into the lock, and pushed the door open.
An elevator was behind it.
Old.
Industrial.
She pressed the button.
It opened.
We peered in.
It was big enough to hold twenty of us.
Reo looked at her. “What do they use this for?”
Hiroko pocketed the key. “Furniture deliveries, janitor carts, and of course the darker things. . .getting rid of bodies and the evidence of murder.”
I nodded. “So no cameras here either?”
“Not one.” She pulled out another key, bronze again but zig zagged at the end. Next, she slid it into a panel beneath the buttons.