Two men responded over the mic, “Yes, sir.”
She pressed the button, and we waited.
I could still hear gunfire in the distance as adrenaline pumped hot through my veins.
Reo sighed. “Kabuki-za has a secret entrance and exit too?”
She nodded.
“Where is it?”
“The entrance is in a theater box. The exit is on the other side of the backstage space.”
Reo frowned. “Close to this service entrance, like on the roof?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
I glanced at Reo. "What's on your mind?"
"If the Fox planned this, would he have known that we would have to go up this way?"
Hiroko nodded slowly. "Possibly. They've got the mines over there to blow us up. They've got the cleanup crew to make sure we don't go back the way we came. The theater could be one spot."
Hiro quirked his brows. "Do we go up or not?"
Everyone looked at me.
I thought about it, weighed the options, and calculated the risks. "To stay in Yoshiwara now would be suicidal. If the Fox is smart, which he has proven once again, he's probably got cleanup crews on every level. That's what I would do. We have to get the fuck out of here which means. . .we have to risk the theater."
Hiroko looked at her watch. "There could be a theater performance right now. So if they do have people there backstage, it should be a small amount."
"Okay. Let's risk the theater." Reo bobbed his head. “Plus, we have back up on the way.”
Reo turned to Hiroko’s men. “You now are first line with the remaining Scales.”
“No.” I shook my head. “They stay next to her.”
“We need the coverage for you.” Reo gestured for them to go.
They headed over to stand by the Scales.
Hiro eyed me as if waiting for me to disagree with Reo’s judgement. With the bomb and close call of our deaths, I knew he would be on edge and not willing to be light with my protection.
The elevator doors opened, and we piled in.
The doors closed, and the elevator started moving up.
No one spoke.
I could hear breathing. The hum of the elevator cables. My own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
I looked down at my guns.
I hadn't fired a single bullet.
Not one.
My Claws had killed with their hands. My Scales had died from a mine. I'd given orders, made calls, triggered a kill box. But these two silver guns—the ones my Tiger had bled for—hadn't spoken once.
