From somewhere in the shadows, a man holsters his gun.
I am frozen. Rooted to the seat. My fingers dig into the velvet, curling around the opulent material, and I can’t wrap my head around it.
Just like that. Dead.
I don’t tolerate complaining, says the Yakuza boss, inspecting his gold-crusted watch.
He is undeniably handsome. With curly, ink-black hair, and bold, masculine features, he looks like a Grecian statue. There is something inherently confident about him, something that reeks power.
Of course, if he could order the death of a man who talked back to him, then there is no doubt he is in control here
Why does he want Veah ?
My heartrate hitches up, too fast. The man in front of me could kill me without blinking an eye, and there would be no one to know the truth.
Lazily, the man asks, What’s your name ?
Despite the soft, arrogant tone of his voice, I know his sharp, cunning eyes miss nothing.
I debate lying. Instead, I say, Kaya Rivers.
She tells the truth, says a clipped, accented voice from the shadows.
The boss regards me with slight interest. I like that, Kaya. You’re honest. It’s a good quality.
I want to scream, Not murdering people is also a good quality !
But my nails bite into my palms, and I ground my jaw. I don’t know why I’m opposed to the murder of the man with the snake tattoo-after all, he did threaten me with how sorry I would be. Except it’s not his death that bothers me-it’s the murder itself.
How easily it happened.
How quickly it was over.
Thank you, I say curtly. My hands are shaking.
Kaya-can I call you Kaya ?-I think we are going to be good friends. You see, since we tracked Miss Hamada, we were . . . surprised . . . to learn she had a partner.
I’m not her partner, I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut.
I should have stayed with her.
We did a little bit of research, he continues. It appears you are . . . just a college student at the Santa Monica University.
I nod, almost frantically. That’s it. That’s all I am.
I need to get back to Cassie. I need to be okay for Cassie.
And I must say . . . how interested we were to learn about your education, Kaya. You have been top student throughout high school and university. Your scores, in standardized testing, are off the charts. And you have beat several time records.
There is something coming. I know it.
Tommy, my best friend, always used to say, And here we have Kaya ! Classic case of academically smart and common sense stupid ! Look at that, folks. Genius and idiot, two for one deal.
That’s all true, I say carefully, because he seems to be waiting for a response.
He must be in his thirties. He seems too young to be a boss, but if power is rooted in slaughter, then I am not surprised he holds the cards.
I must say, this is impressive. And when we learned what your specialty was, well-I am intrigued. You are a computer engineer major ?
Yes, I say through gritted teeth.
This means you specialize in code, do you not ?
Yes.
He smiles, relaxing back into his seat. I will make you an offer, Kaya Rivers. I need you to hack into the most powerful firewall in Asia.
That’s . . . that’s the offer ?
For a moment, I am worried the disrespect will trigger his fury, and he will make the two-fingered gesture that signals death. But he only regards me coolly, like a tiger might watch his prey struggling against a fallen branch.
Savouring the moment before he strikes.
I will take you to Tokyo, and in exchange for hacking the firewall, your life will be spared.
Against all hope, I wish for Veah.
There is no other choice.
The moment I say no, I will be dead. There will be a bullet in the back of my head, and I will slump to my knees on the plush carpet of his plane.
His only concern of me will be the bloodstain I leave behind on the velvet.
He is still looking at me, waiting for a reply. His quiet, vicious eyes miss nothing-not the tremble of my hands or the swallow of my drying throat.
I have no choice.
It is this or death. I’m not ready to die.
Okay, I whisper.
The moment I press the pen to the paper, sweat dampens my temple.
Is a contract necessary ? I had asked. When his eyes hardened, I immediately knew it was the wrong question to say.
Now, the pen is unsteady in my trembling hand.
All I have to do is write my name.
That’s it, Kaya. Write your name. That’s all.
The ink bleeds against the paper, and my fingertips smear the colour. The Yakuza boss is still watching with me, and I feel the predatory stare of his hitman-or assassin-or employee, lingering on the back of my neck.
We don’t have all day, says a roughly accented voice.
The Yakuza boss only smiles coldly, and fear tightens in my stomach.
Just write your name, Kaya.
This time, there is no way out.
Damn you, Veah, I think. This all started when I woke up on Halloween, handcuffed to her, and now . . . now, I’m signing away my life to go to Tokyo.