I can’t do this. I can’t. The pen become shaky in my grip, the metal slick with my sweat, and I swallow again. The lights burn down on me.
I am so, so sorry, Cassie.
I write my name in black ink.
Signing the contract. Signing away myself, in a way.
No matter what he said about keeping me alive, the sensation of a lie tugged in my gut. Making me think that, perhaps, he was not truthful.
Once this is over, I will be easily discarded.
The moment my pen leaves the paper, the ink still wet, gunshots shatter the glass of the plane windows.
All of the Yakuza men are instantly on the floor.
It is just me, standing in the ruin of broken glass and torn velvet. Miraculously unhurt. My stupid, stupid heart beating too fast.
Tommy’s voice echoes in my ears. Genius and idiot, two in one.
I don’t know why I’m still standing, but I can’t make myself move.
The door to the plane is thrown open, and the Yakuza are instantly on their feet. They aim their guns at the silhouetted figure, standing in the doorway, smoke twirling from the barrels of the pistols in both her hands.
Veah.
Stunned, I can only stare as, one by one, each of the men launch themselves at her. Japanese war cries, and then-only cries of pain, as they fall at her feet.
She is fast, too fast to possibly be real. Her movements are sharp and elegant and precise, hitting each man in exactly the place for them to collapse with their eyes rolled back.
There are only seven men on the plane, but within minutes, five of their corpses are littered on the floor.
Miss me ? she says, stepping over the body of the last man.
I open my mouth to warn her-There are still two more !-but then I am dragged backward. There is a gun to my head, and I am breathing heavily against the palm of a man’s hand.
Who is it ? The voice that speaks from above is not the boss, but it must be the man from the shadows. The one who shot Akito without hesitation.
Ice sluices down my spine like rain. I have no doubt he will shoot me, just as uncompromisingly as he did his own friend.
Veah, I squeak out.
Her eyes are not focused on the man holding the gun to my head, but on something further back. She must be looking at the Yakuza boss.
Imai, she says. Hisashiburi.
Hamada, he says, that rich voice deep and musical all at once.
Heaven Hamada. That must be her name.
I see you have something of mine, she says, as though she is one with all the power in this situation.
Indeed, the Yakuza boss says. Imai-she called him Imai.
I would like her back. Veah cocks her gun. Please.
The metal is cold against my temple. At any moment, the man behind me can pull the trigger. I will die. Just like that.
Please do something about this.
I hope Veah understands the frantic rolling of my eyes.
I don’t think she does, because she says to the man behind me, If you shoot her, and I shoot him, then we’ll be the only ones left standing. Who do you think will be faster, Enji ? You or me ? I’m willing to find out. Are you ?
Are you trying to make the person with a gun to my head mad ?
The barrel of the gun shivers, for a fraction of a second, against my skin.
Maybe he doesn’t want to find out who will be faster.
Let her go, commands Imai, and the instant the words soak through the air, the space against my temple is free of the metal.
I turn around, only to see Enji with guns in both hands, aiming at both Veah and I as he backs away. Shielding Imai.
We’ll come back for her, Imai promises Veah, his raven-black hair bright.
Although he is the one backing away, there is no hint of defeat in his stance.
There must be a door in the back of the plane, because the moment the panel slams shut, they are gone.
Veah sheathes her gun and nods at me. Ready ?
What . . . just happened ?
I signed a contract, I whisper. It is still on the table, the ink now dry, my name still written.
I’m sorry I was a little late.
A little late ?
She moves around the table, inspecting the paper closer. Her eyes fall on me-my shaking hands. Almost imperceptibly, she softens.
In an instant, she flicks on a lighter in her pocket.
Before I can take a breath, the contract is burning.
You’re not allowed to burn a legal binding, I say automatically.
She raises an eyebrow. Is that really your concern right now ?
I shut my mouth. No. No, that is not really my concern right now.
Are you ready to go now ? she says, once the paper has wilted into petals of ash on the velvet carpet.
I nod, wordless. It has occurred to me, now.
You came back for me, I say, barely a breath. Her back is already turned, her hand on the handle of the door.
She tenses, but she doesn’t look back.
I couldn’t leave you behind, she says finally.