What did they survive together? How did the twins become Hiro’s shadow?
“I can work with them,” I shrugged. “As long as they listen.”
The twins tilted their heads in perfect sync.
“We listen,” the first promised.
“When it matters,” the second added.
Not exactly comforting, but I’d take it.
Reo addressed the other Claws, “The rest of you will stay in the West Wing—but not on the same floor as the Personal Scales’ rooms. I want you visible enough that nothing strange happens in the hallways, but not so clustered that it feels like a raid.”
Kaede inclined that glass eye toward Reo. “We’ll treat it like a regular patrol. Cards. Drinks. Jokes. If anyone’s watching, they’ll see nothing different. Our junior guards will not know anything. They’ll get their regular orders.”
Aww. So the Claws and Fangs have their own men. They must be more like. . .the captains of squads.
Daisuke leaned back in his chair. “And if something is different, do we go in for the kill, Reo?”
“No. Report to me first. Don’t react unless the Dragon says so. Due to our not knowing how many spies are out there. . .we must play this close.”
Kenji nodded. “This is the smartest play, if my Personal Scales are innocent, nothing happens except a movie and too much popcorn. If they’re guilty. . .well. . .the theater has excellent soundproofing."
A chill ran down my spine.
Kenji added blandly, "No one else in the house will hear their screams.”
Terror shot through me.
Holy shit.
Reo checked his watch and sat down. “All right. We have tonight mapped out. The Personal Scales get their fantasy. The Tiger gets her hunt. The Claws and Fangs become wallpaper. That buys us our first round of answers.”
His tone sharpened. “But I don’t want anyone in this room thinking the Personal Scales are the only possibility. They’re not.”
I nodded once. I’d been thinking the same thing. Whoever sent those messages had access, yes. But access came in a lot of shapes—maids, lower-level guards, tech support in the server room. Hell, even a terrified accountant could become a spy if one squeezed the right nerve.
“Whether one of the Personal Scales is part of this or not,” Reo said, “someone else is. Maybe several deadly someones. Which means tonight is just phase one.”
Hiro leaned forward forearms on the table. “And phase two?”
Reo’s eyes went shadow-dark. “Tomorrow, the Tiger hunts again. But this time, we don’t just watch patterns. We set a trap.”
A low sound rumbled on my right, full of threat.
Kenji.
He tilted his chin and scowled at Reo. “Trap? We said nothing about a trap, Roar.”
“Kenji, the hunt won’t just be enough—”
“Every trap needs bait,” Kenji’s voice like velvet dragged over a blade. “Who the fuck do you think the bait is going to be for this trap tomorrow?”
Reo didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
His gaze just slid toward me.
