Page 143 of Emperor of Wrath

Silently, he follows me down the hall, and remains quiet as I kick in the door to his boss’s office. Chief Hajime scrambles to stand from his desk as I storm in.

“Kenzo!” He smiles brightly, though it looks like he’s suddenly started to sweat bullets. Some of that could be the way I just roared in here like a bat out of hell.

It could also be because this fuck’s been lying to me, and he’s just figured out that I might know it.

“Close the door, Tetsuya,” I growl.

The door clicks shut behind me. Chief Hajime pales as I approach his desk.

“I want to see it.”

He forces a nervous smile. “See…what?”

“The body,” I growl. “And I would highly suggest you not ask me which body I’m talking about.”

His throat bobs, his eyes darting past me to Tetsuya, pleading for backup.

Something tells me he’s not going to get it. Not from a man who stands to benefit from his downfall.

“Valon Leka?” Chief Hajime blurts. “You mean?—”

“Obviously. Well?” I gesture to the door. “Shall we?”

“Ahh, Kenzo,” he stammers. “I wish you’d called ahead so that I can make sure we have access to the correct?—”

“Exactly how many fucking white gaijins do you expect me to believe you have down in the morgue?”

“Kenzo—”

Chief Hajime blanches as I open my coat just enough for him to see the cold metal of my sword’s blade glint in the light.

“I’m going to ask you this once and only once, Hajime,” I growl tightly. “Did you find Valon Leka’s body.”

I want him to tell me yes. Truthfully. Because it’ll mean this idea that a ghost from Annika’s past is still out there is as ridiculous as I need it to be.

Leka is dead. Has to be. I saw him lying motionless on the ground in a massive puddle of his own blood. Even if he made it over that wall, there’s no way he had enough blood left in his body to make it twenty feet, let alone live.

But I need this fuck to say it. I need him to tell me I’m not fucking crazy.

But that’s not what Hajime says. He says nothing at all. And that’s what sends a cold knife slicing up my spine.

“Kenzo,” he chokes, his eyes widening in fear. It’s as if he’s remembering all the times he bragged to me about being single. About having no family or children to “weigh him down”.

I’m not exactly a forgiving man. But small details like that may have saved him today.

“Who paid you.”

He starts to sob. “Kenzo, please! I?—”

“Who. Fucking. Paid. You,” I snarl.

“I don’t know!” he protests. “A man…a white man. He had an accent. Maybe Turkish…Greek…”

“Albanian?” I growl.

“Yes! Maybe!” Hajime blurts hopefully. “He came and offered me an envelope if I said we found that body. He looked not so well. Kenzo, please! I knew your father! And you and I?—”

“You ready to step up?” I turn to level a look at Tetsuya.

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