Page 19 of Dragon 7

"She'll forgive you in the morning."

Rin's eyes held mine for one beat. "If there is a morning."

“There will be.” I walked past him into the corridor.

But would it?

Kaoru walked right behind me and held his mask. “Yoichi hasn’t arrived yet?”

“He’s with my Tiger.”

“What? I would have loved that detail.”

Hiro got on my right. “That’s why you didn’t get it.”

Kaoru sighed. “What the hell does that mean?”

Hiro pointed at him. “You’re too flirty with my Tiger.”

I rolled my eyes and glanced back at Kaoru. “Once Yoichi has Nyomi off the island, he’ll fight next to us.”

“Perfect. I need him by my side. It wouldn’t be right any other way.” Kaoru put on his pink and ivory mask.

Kuchisake-onna.

The slit-mouth woman.

The wife who had been so beautiful her samurai husband had taken a blade to her face out of jealousy, splitting her smile from ear to ear, mutilating the very thing he had loved, so no other man would ever look at her.

She had died with her mouth cut open.

Later, she came back as a onryō—a vengeful spirit trapped between life and death. Her wounds still bled, and now she walked the roads at night carrying scissors and asking every man she met one question. “Am I beautiful?”

If the answer was no, she killed him for the insult.

If the answer was yes, she pulled away the cloth covering her face and showed him the slit mouth, and she killed him for the lie.

There was no correct answer. There was only the death she had already chosen for whoever crossed her path.

We moved through the hallway in formation.

Reo got to my left and with each step continued to check his tablet. By now even the Claws had their weapons on them and were strapping on their masks.

My silver guns sat in their holsters at my hips. Nyomi's blood ran along the tops of each barrel in a thin reddish-dark line—dried but still carrying her protective essence.

While we headed forward, I flipped both switches to bullets. Later when the fight got close enough to taste, I would flip them to both—bullets and fire.

Behind my left shoulder, my Scale, Ichiro carried my flame torch, Totoro.

He had both hands beneath the body. The fuel tank was cradled against his chest. The nozzle pointed up and away from the column. The hybrid butane and gel mix shifted soft inside the tank with every step. Twenty-five feet of flame waited in her metal housing.

When I turned her on, many called that the Dragon's breath. Tonight, Akiro’s men would feel the heat of it.

The mansion corridors had emptied. All the staff were gone.

Reo's voice broke through my thoughts. "Seventy percent of the people that were on the island are already off. I've confirmed that all of your girlfriends, parents, and loved ones are safe."

“Thank God.” Kaoru sighed. “Without my two sexy ladies I have nothing to fight for.”