Please God no. . .
And as Kenji died, the dragon-shadow erupted from his back. Black smoke and fury, clawing at the air, trying to shield what was already gone. It opened its mouth and didn’t let out a roar.
Instead, it whimpered.
Then it evaporated, dissolved like ink in water, and Kenji's body hit the ground.
No. No. No.
I shook my head and forced my eyes open.
That didn’t happen. Focus on the present.
I looked around the bedroom, took it in, and pressed my hand against my chest, right above my heart. It hammered beneath my palm.
God, please.
I didn't have fancy words or any scripture memorized. Just the raw, ugly prayer of a woman who had just put blood on guns and sent three men to war.
Protect them, please. You are all powerful. Bring them back to me. All of them.
Something warm seeped between my fingers.
I looked down.
Blood soaked through the fabric of my shirt in a slow, dark bloom right over my heart. I didn't wipe it off. I pressed my hand harder into it and held it there, sealing the prayer beneath my palm.
Kenji was walking into a potential trap. Hiro was going with him. Reo was still recovering from injuries. And I'd just sent them off with my blood smeared on their guns in a ritual of protection that might not mean anything at all.
I wanted to scream.
Wanted to run after them.
Wanted to beg them not to go.
But I didn't.
Because that wasn't what they needed from me right now.
I took a breath, let it fill my lungs slowly, and then I released it.
My mind kept spinning. I needed to talk to someone. Hiroko. Deja. Nika. Zo. Anyone who could help me understand if there was something else I could do. Something more than just standing here shaking.
I’ll ask Hiroko. She’ll help.
Still, I wished I'd said more to Kenji before he left.
Wished I'd told him how terrified I was.
Wished I'd made him promise to come back.
But I couldn't think about that nor let myself imagine that the shower might have been the last time I ever touched him. Or even more that this room would be the last time I heard Hiro laugh or saw Reo's intelligent smile.
No. They’re going to be fine.
Sighing, I went into the bathroom and cleaned up my finger, grabbing the Band-aids from the side drawer. Once the wound had been tended to, I went back into the closet and pulled out comfortable, stretchy black pants. Next, I found a long-sleeve black shirt.
It wasn’t until I finished dressing that I realized I was mirroring them.
