Whatever was coming had claws, and Reo was buying me the last few calm breaths I’d get before they raked through my world.
I considered earlier today. "You sent my personal Scales to the island."
Reo nodded. “I did.”
I kept my voice level, but I also made sure he heard the edge. "This was supposed to be private. Just me and Nyomi. Why the fuck would you send Yuki, Mami, and Hina here?"
The smile left Reo’s face. "To test her."
Heat flared in my chest, instant and vicious. "Don't. Ever. Test. My Tiger."
Reo didn't flinch, but his hands came up slightly in surrender and respect. "I apologize. I wanted to see if Nyomi stays alert even when she thinks she doesn't need to be. If her instincts are always on, even in paradise."
"That's not your call to make."
"You're right. It isn’t." He held my gaze. "But I also had another reason."
I waited.
"I've been suspicious of your Scales." His voice dropped. "Since Paris. Nothing solid. Just. . .small things. Questions they shouldn't ask. Knowledge they shouldn't have. But I wasn't sure if any of them could actually be the spy."
My blood went cold.
"I’m hoping I’m wrong. It wasn't a formal test, Kenji. I was just. . .throwing something out there and praying nothing would stick."
The implications crashed over me like a wave. Yuki. Mami. Hina. Three women who'd been with me since they were children. Three women I'd protected, educated, and treasured.
One of them might be feeding information to my father.
Reo leaned his head to the side. "Did anything come up for your Heart?"
A long pause came.
The ocean filled the silence.
Then, I forced the words out, hating them. "She flagged Hina as suspicious."
Reo's face crumbled.
I'd seen my Roar handle torture, death, betrayal from enemies without blinking. But this. . .it broke something in him.
“Hina. . .” Reo turned away from me for a few seconds and his shoulders went rigid.
I gave him the moment, watching waves crash against the shore while he fought for composure.
When he turned back, his eyes were wet. "Are you sure she said Hina?”
“Yes.”
“She's been with you since she was four years old, Kenji." His voice cracked on the number.
“I know.”
This possible betrayal pressed down on my spine, vertebra by vertebra, like a stack of cold stones.
Four years old. A little girl who'd grown up in my household, who'd learned to bow to me before she learned to write, who'd devoted her entire life to serving me.
And my father had been watching her the whole time too.
