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 betraydown. They betrayedup. 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.
If Rin betrayed Kenji, it would be for someone much higher than the Dragon.
He’s not the spy.
Last was Satoshi.
Satoshi didn't blink when I looked at him. Not even once. I counted seven seconds of direct eye contact.
