Page 6 of Her Fearless Ronin

I hesitated, a knot of unease forming in my stomach. Revealing our current address meant exposing the harsh reality of our circumstances, the descent into a neighborhood plagued by crime and despair. It would be difficult to hide the extent of our struggles from Jiro, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to bear that vulnerability or add to his already misplaced guilt.

Taking a deep breath, I realized I had no choice if I wanted a chance to ever find Leo.

“It’s eleven thirty-four Rendall Close,” I replied with resignation.

Jiro typed the address into his phone, his fingers moving swiftly across the screen. In that moment, it felt like someone had lifted a weight off my shoulders. As if I had finally taken the first step to finding my brother and unraveling the truth. He glanced at me briefly, his expression unreadable, and jerked his head for me to hop on his bike.

I put on the helmet, secured it on my head, and then climbed onto the back of the bike, wrapping my arms tightly around Jiro’s waist. The solidness of his body provided a sense of security, and I allowed myself to lean on him, both physically and emotionally. In that moment, I realized how much I had longed for support and someone to lean on all these years.

As we set off once again, the wind whipping against my face, I couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of courage. With Jiro by my side, I knew I didn’t have to face the uncertainties alone.

As the scenery blurred past us, I held on tightly to Jiro, trusting him to guide us through the twists and turns. The rumble of the engine and the rush of adrenaline fueled my resolve. Together, we would find my brother and maybe even confront the ghosts of our past.

Chapter 3

Jiro

Ihad spent years honing my ability to read people, a skill that came with my position as Hoka’s right hand and enforcer. It was essential for me to discern guilt and innocence, to make decisions that would determine fates. But my training also allowed me to recognize painand to sense the hidden turmoil within individuals.

As I sat across from her at the table, meeting her troubled blue eyes, I had seen beyond the facade she tried to maintain. It was clear to me that her situation was far worse than she let on. There was a weight in her gaze, a subtle vulnerability that betrayed the magnitude of her struggles.

She may have shrugged off my questions, deflecting with vague answers, but I knew there was much more beneath the surface. It was in the way she fidgeted, avoiding eye contact, and in the unspoken words that hung heavy in the air between us.

I had become accustomed to dealing with darkness and navigating the shadows of society, but there was something about her that struck a chord within me. A sense of empathy welled up inside, an urge to protect and understand her. I should not feel that protective of her; I couldn’t afford to make the same mistake twice. Anna’s association with me had sealed her fate, and I couldn’t allow history to repeat itself with her sister.

Even if I hadn’t suspected her financial situation, I would have as I stopped my bike in front of such a decrepit building that it made Violet’s previous place look like the Hilton.

“It’s temporary,” she said, her voice tinged with embarrassment as her cheeks flushed with color. I knew she was trying to downplay the situation, to assure me it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. But the truth was hard to ignore.

I nodded, even though I had my doubts about the temporary nature of her living arrangement. There was an air of desperation about her, a vulnerability that belied herattempts to maintain a brave front. She deserved better than this, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of responsibility to help her find a safer and more stable environment.

“Thank you for helping me…” she trailed off, her voice filled with a mix of gratitude and hesitation. I could see the turmoil in her eyes as she glanced at the run-down building, her expression pained. But before she could say anything further, she abruptly changed the subject, “Let’s go.”

We walked down the path; her steps hurried and stiff. I recognized that walk—the one taken when summoning the courage to face a difficult situation. It struck me how she seemed determined to keep up a facade as if she believed I would judge her. The truth was, I could never condemn her for the hardships she faced.

Despite her attempts to shield me from her struggles, I couldn’t help but question how her life had taken such a drastic turn. It didn’t make sense that her family’s finances had deteriorated to this extent, especially considering the monthly payments I had been making in an effort to make amends and tone down some ghosts haunting me. I had hoped that my contribution would ease some of their burden, but clearly, it hadn’t been enough.

As we entered the building, the weight of responsibility on my shoulders grew heavier. The realization struck me that the downward spiral had likely started with Anna’s death, and the consequences for her family had been far more devastating than I had ever imagined. The guilt gnawed at me, wondering if there was more I could have done if I had only known.

I observed her small frame as she came to a halt in frontof a door covered with graffiti. Her vulnerability and the hardships she endured were etched on her face, and it stirred a determination within me. I was resolved to make things right, to find her brother, and to do everything in my power to rectify the wrongs that had plagued her life.

But as I made this silent promise to myself, doubts crept in. Could I truly save someone when I was haunted by my own ghosts? The shadows of my past lingered, casting doubt upon my ability to provide the redemption she sought.

I owed it to her, to Anna’s memory, and my quest for redemption to persevere.

“Honey, is that you?” a woman called as soon as Hope opened the door.

I froze at the woman’s voice and threw a questioning look at Hope. I knew that, for some insane reason, Hope didn’t blame me for her circumstances, but I knew her parents hated me. Having me there now, with her mother…

Hope’s eyes were so sad when she shook her head at me. “Don’t worry, she… she is different,” she whispered cryptically. “Yes, Mom, it’s me,” Hope responded, her voice carrying a touch of apprehension.

Her mother’s enthusiastic tone hinted at a shift in her demeanor. “Oh, this is wonderful! I’m watching the video of your high school graduation. Come, come, you were so pretty in your dress.”

Hope’s eyes reflected a profound sadness, silently pleading for my understanding as we stepped farther into the living room. The space was surprisingly cozy and well organized, defying my initial assumptions about the building.

Her mother was sitting on an armchair in a worn-out yellow robe, and a thick blanket rested on her knees. The years had taken their toll on her. It was visible in her gray hair and the lines etched on her face, serving as reminders of the hardships she had endured.

She looked at us and smiled. “Look, Anna sweetheart, wasn’t I right to make you choose this blue dress?” she asked Hope.

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