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)
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.