Page 35 of Emperor of Havoc

Her face is cleaner now, her hair sleek and done impeccably, but her eyes are the same as the ones that stared back at me across the beam, wide with fear but unblinking, holding onto the same desperate shred of hope that I did.

We were hostages together, pawns in Miyamoto Kato’s sick game hoping to pit our families against each other. If my family came first and tried to save me, the see-saw would tip, sending her tumbling to her death. If hers saved her first, I’d be the one to fall.

It’s weird to realize we’ve gone through something like that together and yet haven’t seen each other since that day, or know each other at all.

Hana stops a few feet away, smiling softly. “It’s been…a while.”

My fingers twitch at my sides. She watches my hands, and then, to my surprise, lifts hers, awkwardly but deliberately.

“I only know a little,” she signs, a little clumsily. “But I can understand more than I can sign,” she adds vocally.

It breaks me out of my stupor. I grin at her for a moment before we come together to hug for a second.

It's tough not to see that Hana is Takeshi’s twin. She doesn’t have his height, and her dark hair is bleached blonde. But their features, especially the eyes, are eerily similar. Like her brothers, Hana has a distinctly Japanese look, but with a hint of Norwegian, from their mother.

“Bet you’d never have guessed this is how we’d meet again,” I sign dryly. When I see the confused look on her face, I hold upa finger, head to the bar, borrow a notepad and pen from the bartender, and walk back.

“Sorry,” she groans. “I guess my signing isn't as good as I thought.”

I shake my head, smiling.No problem, I write. Then I add what I signed before and pass the notebook to her.

She laughs. “No, can’t say I would have guessed this would be our second meeting. But you have to admit, anything’s better than the first.”

AKA, when we were tied to chairs dangling above the abyss, wondering if the next sneeze would send both of us plunging to our deaths.

The service is much better this time, I write, making her snort a laugh.

“Muchbetter,” she smiles. “The venue is definitely an improvement, too.”

You think?I write.I was considering suggesting to my father that he remodel and go for a burned-out architectural hazard vibe.

Hana grins, shaking her head.“I hope you’re surviving my brother,” she says with a playful roll of her eyes. “He has a talent for making people want to strangle him.”

I snatch up the notepad and pencil. I manage to restrain myself and just scrawl “he’s a little infuriating” on the page.

I mean, we’re getting along. But Takeshiisher twin.

“Please—don’t hold back on my account. I’ve known that dick my whole life. Serve that tea, girl.”

Hey, she asked.

He’s a fucking asshole, I scrawl across the page.

Luckily, Hana laughs. “I know how strange all of this must feel. But I’m glad this is ending the animosity between our families.”

More like hiding or burying it, I think to myself.

“Me too,” I sign back.

Hana and I end up grabbing a drink at the bar and finding out we’ve got even more in common than I would have thought. And ultimately, she’s right: however fucked-up this arrangement is, itdoesend any potential bloodshed between our families. And that’s nothing but good.

Eventually she gets pulled away, and I make my way to the long table set up on a low stage at the front of the room to leave my clutch at my seat. The place settings are meticulous, crystal glasses and polished silver catching the light just so—Papa spared no expense. Then my brows knit as I spot something.

There’s an envelope on my plate.

It’s small and unmarked, cream-colored with a slight gold foil edge.I glance around. No one seems to be paying attention, so I lower myself into the chair and tear open the envelope, wondering if maybe it's a little note from Papa, since he’s not here.

The second my eyes land on the words inside, I realize it’s not from him.

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