He looked like a man who hadn't killed anyone.
Like a man who could be loved without consequence.
Mami had drawn him the way she wanted him to be—soft, open, belonging to her.
I stared at the page. "So. . .she probably took a picture of him while he was sleeping and then drew this."
“Correct. My brother would never let her see him like this. Not willingly.” Hiro pulled out his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Telling Reo that the Eyes are involved.”
I snapped my view to him. “What?”
“The only way she could have done this is if both Eyes let her do it. That means that they have a level of secrecy and odd loyalty that none of us know about.” He sneered and typed into the phone. “I never fucking liked those Cum Guards, but at least I thought they would keep my brother safe while he was sleeping.”
I’m glad Kenji stopped using them when we got together.
I tensed.
Did the Eyes also work for the Fox?
The thought uncoiled in my mind like a venomous thing, spreading its poison through every assumption I'd made.
The Fox wasn’t just a mastermind.
He was a puppeteer who had spent decades, threading his fingers into every corner of his son's organization. Not with brute force. Not with obvious attacks. But with patience. Withplacement. With trauma. With the slow, methodical insertion of loyal bodies into positions of trust.
The Eyes could be the Fox’s spies too. . .
Kenji's Eyes were supposed to watch him when he couldn't watch himself.
During those vulnerable hours when even the most dangerous man in Tokyo had to close his eyes and trust that someone was keeping him safe.
During sleep.
During sex.
And the Fox had corrupted even that.
This is worse than anything I could have ever imagined.
If the Fox controlled the Eyes, then every time Kenji had slept, his father had been watching too.
Every time Kenji had fucked someone, his father had known.
Every nightmare, every moment of unconscious vulnerability, every whispered confession in the dark—the Fox had seen it all.
And I thought my father was a piece of shit.
My skin crawled.
This nest of snakes was bigger than I'd imagined. More layered. More insidious. The spy wasn't just one person—it was a network, woven so tightly into the fabric of Kenji's life that pulling one thread might unravel everything.
Or nothing at all.
Because how do you fight an enemy who's already inside?
