“Did you drink her bath water?” he jests.
Rolling my eyes, I retort, “I will.”
Haruki bursts into peals of laughter. “You’re too far gone, aniki. Soon you’ll be picking out matching outfits for your pets.”
“Fuck you,” I rebut, biting my cheek to prevent me from joining in. Lord knows if it were him or any one of my men, I would give them hell.Shit. I already have in the past.
He pauses, and more cackling comes through the speakers, tempting me to hang up. “You already have.”
“Something wrong with me matching my woman?” I challenge.
Snorting, he replies, “Does she know that you bought an ocelot and named it Lyssa after her code name when she’s out in the field?”
I internally smirk. Lyssa is the perfect name for my Goddess of Rage, but I’m not explaining myself to this idiot.
“Fuck off, asshole. I can’t wait until it’s your turn. I’ll repay your five generations for the kindness you bestowed upon me today.”
Any other time, I might have worried about being tracked or overheard, but Haruki has everything more secured than the doomsday bunker the rich have hidden in the hills. So even though he’s acting like a petulant seven-year-old younger brother, he’s also the tech god. Peoplepay trillions to try to buy their way into being his apprentice, but that spot is forever occupied.
“Okay, out with it,” I order, and he gasps, trying to catch his breath.
He gets in one more chuckle before he clears his throat. “He wasn’t tipped off. The fuckers just took a liking to Senator Rourke’s daughter.”
I grind my teeth, knowing what he’s going to say.
“So the Senator, being the father of the year that he is, offered up his fourteen-year-old daughter in exchange for the Small Business Association’s support for his bid for Governor.”
My brain must have misfired because there’s no way he said, fourteen… father…for a bid.
“Run that by me again, please.”
“The poor excuse for a human being, much less of a father, sex trafficked his underage daughter out to be raped in order to win the bid to be the Governor of Texas.”
My heart lurches out of my chest, but I listen to every detail. If I miss anything, I run the risk of not keeping Tati safe from the assholes hunting her.
“So—”
My words cut off.
“The nut who should’ve been jerked into the trash can sent his guards to ensure his “precious princess”isn’t hurt too badly or killed. Hence, the increased detail that fucked up your woman’s shot at exterminating the slimy slum landlord,” Haruki states.
Images of Emi in the hands of some monster—drugged and confused, wishing to be home.
Passing the sensor, my gate opens, and I hit the route to my underground garage.
Failure gnaws through the lining of my stomach, shouting all my inadequacies through a bullhorn as they’re displayed on a New York City Times Square billboard.
My sister is dead because I wasn’t vigilant.
My sister is dead because I couldn’t save her.
My sister is dead because I’m a failure.
The beep of the garage opening snaps me out of my pity party.
“You still with me, Shinigami?”
God of Death
