Only the heat of his skin.
Only the sound of our shared breath—threading us back together.
And for the first time in years, my body wasn’t braced for impact. I wasn’t preparing for the microaggressions of this crazy world. Wasn’t rehearsing my boundaries. Wasn’t tightening my jaw or softening my tone so I didn’t come off as,too much.
I wasn’t waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me.
Or the mask to slip.
Or the lie to finally reveal itself.
I wasn’t just safe.
Ifeltsafe.
And that feeling was so foreign, it hurt a little.
Because safety had never been a constant for me.
When I was younger, I thought safety meant good schools and Sunday brunches.A house with a security system, a yard with trimmed hedges, a mother who wore Chanel No. 5 and pearls that weren’t fake.
I thought safety meant we’dmade it.
Until the Feds came.
Until they tore through our house in the middle of the night like it was a crime scene, flipping mattresses and dumping drawers. Until I watched them slam my father’s body against the ground while my mother begged them not to shoot him.
Even though my father had deserved it all, I still walked away with anxiety and thinking that the worst could always come for me too.
But this right now?
This was different.
I was in a helicopter surrounded by men in black with blades and guns.
Below us, Tokyo was at war.
People were dying.
But Kenji was near, and if death tried to climb into this helicopter, he would drag it back down and set it on fire.
His phone rang, disrupting my thoughts.
I opened my eyes.
Who’s calling?
Chapter five
For Every Word You Bleed
Nyomi
The phone rang again.
Sighing, Kenji moved his head a little and kissed the center of my forehead.
That wrecked me.
