They emerged from opposite sides near the base of Tokyo Tower—and froze.
They saw each other.
Oh shit.
The woman kept running for a few more steps before she realized the footsteps behind her had stopped. She turned with that playful giggle still on her lips. . .and saw them.
Standing face to face.
Recognition dawning.
And it was like this realization hit them at the same moment.
Their joyful expressions twisted into something darker.
Jealousy.
Rage.
The understanding that they weren't the only man in her life.
The first man drew his sword.
The second man drew his.
Steel sang as the blades cleared their sheaths.
Oh fuck. It’s about to go down.
The woman's giggle died in her throat.
Her flirtatious smile vanished.
Yeah, girl. A threesome is not happening today.
With their swords raised, the men circled each other.
The music grew dark—the drum pounding like a war drum, the shamisen shrieking with rage.
I gripped the edge of the table.
The first man lunged.
His blade swept in a vicious arc, and the second man barely twisted away.
Their swords met with a clash that rang through the war room.
I almost jumped.
Sparks seemed to fly—or maybe it was just the candlelight playing tricks.
They fought.
Really fought.
Not the careful, choreographed dance I'd expected.
This looked real.
