This feed might be the last time I ever watched her laugh.
The last time I saw her tilt her head like that.
The last time I studied the curve of her neck while someone's hands moved through her hair.
If I died today, this would be the final peaceful image. My Tiger in a chair. Laughing. Safe. Not knowing I was watching her like a man trying to burn a woman into his memory before the world went dark.
I love you, Tora. Do you understand how much?
I pressed my thumb against the screen, right along her lips.
Hiro glanced at me from across the helicopter but said nothing.
Good.
Because if he had, I wouldn't have been able to keep my voice steady.
I watched her laugh again.
Get back to her. That's the true mission. Everything else is just the road between here and her.
I locked the phone and slipped it back into my pocket.
My jaw tightened, and I felt the shift happen inside me. I had to focus now.
On my right, Hiroko caught it.
I turned to her. That gaze went to my pocket and then back to my face. She didn't say anything, but there was understanding in her expression. She knew what I'd been looking at and knew what it meant to me.
She put her gaze forward.
Instead of turning away too, I looked at Hiroko properly since we'd boarded the helicopter.
This was the first time I'd ever seen Hiroko look normal.
Today, she wasn't wearing one of her elaborate kimonos with the silk and embroidery. She wasn't in any of the leather BDSM gear either.
Instead, she wore black tactical pants, black boots, and a black long-sleeve top like us. The biggest difference was that a bulletproof vest was strapped across her chest, and her hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the base of her neck.
And there was a small red gun holstered at her side.
I wondered if she knew how to use it and then immediately assumed she probably could. Hiroko had lived through more violence than most of my men. She'd survived the red-light districts, the yakuza wars, and decades of navigating a world that chewed up women and spit them out.
Of course she could use a gun.
Two men sat on the other side of her. Reo had picked her personal security detail, assigned specifically to stay with her in the tunnels.
Both were experienced.
Both were loyal.
Both had explicit orders: if things went wrong, their only job was to get Hiroko out alive.
The helicopter banked slightly, and I felt the familiar lurch in my stomach.
We were in a big government helicopter. The kind reserved for the highest-level officials in Japan—the Prime Minister and top cabinet members. People who moved through the world with absolute authority and zero questions asked.
Reo had called in the favor before I'd even woken up this morning. One conversation with the right person with a mention of my name, and we had access to the entire fleet.
