This was about belonging.
About something more than family.
About the way these men had survived their monster of a father by holding onto each other with both hands.
Kenji had claimed my heart.
Hiro was claiming something adjacent—my care, my presence, my willingness to make him breakfast and hold him while he grieved.
Different kinds of possession.
Different kinds of love.
Both equally absolute.
"Alright then. Nothing here points to Yuki being the spy, so. . .we should check Mami's room.”
He nodded. "After you. . .sis."
I rolled my eyes and headed for the door.
But I couldn't stop the warmth blooming in my chest—complicated, confusing, and somehow exactly right.
Chapter thirty-eight
The Middle Scale
Nyomi
In front of Mami’s room, I stepped back as Hiro moved forward—gun raised, body shifting into that predatory stance I was starting to recognize.
The hallway stretched behind me, too long, too quiet, too full of shadows that seemed to breathe.
He slipped inside Mami's room without a sound.
The door clicked shut.
I waited.
The spy isn’t Yuki. Before coming to their suite, I thought it was Hina. However now. . .I’m leaning toward Mami. But will I find anything in her room?
Seconds crawled.
My pulse hammered against my throat as I pressed my back to the wall, scanned both ends of the hallway.
Every shadow looked like a person.
Every creak sounded like footsteps.
Where were the twins?
I thought of the twins outside the suite and guarding the space.
Were they still there?
Were they safe?
The door opened.
