Page 78 of Emperor of Havoc

Her words do little to calm the storm inside me. My mind races, piecing together fragments of the encounter. One name keeps surfacing, unbidden and unwelcome.

Takeshi.

Ridiculous, I tell myself. Thatclearlywasn’t him.

Right?

And yet the doubt lingers.

Later, in the calm sanctuary of my room, I try to collect myself. The fear has dulled, morphing into a gnawing unease. I move to my dresser, grabbing for my phone charger. When I do, I knock over a framed picture of Papa, Nina, and me from years ago.

Shit.

It hits the floor with a sharp crack of shattering glass. I wince as I crouch down, carefully trying to pick the photo out of the mess without scratching it. As the cracked back of the frame shifts, something nestled in the mess catches my eye:a small, sleek device, barely larger than a coin. My heart stutters as I pick it up, turning it over in my hand.

What the hell?

I find Ryu pacing the small room he’s co-opted as his personal command center in Papa’s house. He’s still got men combing Tokyo, seeing if anyone knows anything about what happened to me earlier. He looks up, pulling the phone away from his ear when I step in and close the door.

“I have to ask you something. Before I do,” I sign, “I need you to promise you won’t overreact.”

He frowns. “I’m not sure I can do that, Katarina-san.”

I give him a beseeching look. “Please, Ryu. Honestly, I need you not to react at all. I just need the information.”

Slowly, he nods dubiously. “Okay. What do you need?”

I hold out my hand, the silver coin-shaped device with the small wire sitting in my palm.

Ryu plucks it from my hand, frowning.

“What is this?” I sign.

His scowl deepens.

“Listening device.” His eyes snap to mine. “Where did you find it?”

All the air rushes out of the room at once and my vision blurs as the implications hit me like a freight train.

Someone’s beenlisteningto me.

No. Not “someone”.

Takeshi.

“I need to know where you found this,” Ryu growls. “This is serious.”

I shake my head. “The man who was following me tonight… It fell out of his coat pocket,” I lie. “Is there any way of finding out where it came from? Or who it belongs to?”

“Actually, yes,” he mutters. “Look.” He points to lettering on the back side of the device. “That’s Cyrillic. This is Russian-made.” His eyes drag back to me. “Most people in this city using bugging devices like this would buy either Japanese or Korean. The Russian ones tend to be a little more high end, and alotmore expensive.” His face darkens. “There are only two, maybe three Yakuza families in Tokyo who use Russian tech.” He frowns. “Actually, probably just two.”

“Who?” I motion slowly. I’m sure I know the answer, I’m just dreading hearing it.

“Well, us,” he grunts, eyeing the bug. “And…the Mori-kai.”

That motherfucker.

The man in the alley tonight might not have been Takeshi. But the high-end listening device hidden in my fuckingbedroom?

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