GhostWalkers 10 - Samurai Game

late. As head of the company, you’re a target anyway, but when you walk into the lion’s den with me, you and Eiji will have less of a chance against enhanced, experienced soldiers. You’ve read their files. You know what we face. These men are some of the most dangerous men on the face of the earth today. Even factions of their own government fear them. They will strike against you first, my brother.”
    “We vowed to help you, Azami,” Eiji pointed out.
    “And I released you from that vow long ago,” she reminded. “I am enhanced, as they are. I have psychic gifts, as they do. This isn’t the same as the other jobs we’ve worked on.”
    Daiki shrugged. “These people could be innocents and we don’t want to make any mistakes. We need to know who our enemies are.” He looked his sister in the eye. “We made this vow to our father, not to you. You cannot release us. You never asked this task of us.”
    “We do not wish to be released, Azami,” Eiji added. “It is important that you know that. I am prepared to die. Deathmeans nothing to me. If fate wishes it so, then so be it, but I will work to stop this evil. Like Daiki and our father, I saw what that man did to an innocent child.”
    “We are sworn to stamp out evil,” Daiki continued. “Our father’s legacy lives in all of us. He took us in, gave us life when we would have lived as slaves in the sex trade. He gave us his name and his heritage. He taught us the way of the samurai. We have thrived in business following his way. We cannot step off the path when it becomes dangerous. We have prepared for this day.”
    Thorn took a deep breath, pride for her brothers slipping into her heart. She took another deep breath, drawing in the crisp air coming off the surrounding mountains. She saw the freedom and beauty of nature and always found she felt completely free when she was away from the cities and out in the open. She’d learned calm, to be centered, to know her way and have confidence in herself, but Whitney was a personal demon she’d never been able to fully exorcise in the way that she should. Confronting his evil was necessary, but still, at night—when she was alone—the thought of him, those terrible memories of her years with him, still gave her nightmares.
    “Azami?” Daiki inquired softly.
    She could hear the genuine concern in his voice, and as always, when one of her brothers showed her unexpected affection, she was touched. She sent him a small, quick smile of reassurance, keeping her features serene. She could tell Eiji and Daiki were both worried about her. They’d been with her since the day they had been with their father and had seen the occupants of a rented car dump her out on the street in one of the worst parts of Kinshicho in eastern Tokyo. Whitney had disposed of her in a place known for pimps, sex trafficking, and pedophiles, just as her brothers’ parents had abandoned them. She had been eight years old and her body had been covered in scars already. She’d weighed forty-seven pounds, and the signs of torture, abuse, and multiple operations were signifcant—signs that she had been systematically experimented on by a madman.
    Mamoru Yoshiie had lifted her gently into his arms and looked into her eyes for a long time before he’d nodded, as if seeing something in her that was worth saving. No one had ever made her feel as if she was worth anything until that simple nod. He had taken her home to live with him and his adopted sons. From that day, Yoshiie had raised her as if she were a beloved daughter, not a throwaway found on the dirty streets.
    “It’s beautiful here. I don’t know why I didn’t expect that.” It was her way of reassuring them, pointing out the beauty of their surroundings as their father had done when her nightmares had awakened the entire household night after night. He would carry her outside where she could breathe, and sit with her, pointing out the distant mountains and the sky overhead. The boys would crowd close, touching her shoulder in that same calm reassurance.
    They were walking straight into what might be the heart of an enemy camp. It wouldn’t be the first time, and hopefully, it wouldn’t be the last. There was little intelligence on the compound, and even sending a satellite to spy over the Lolo National Forest hadn’t yielded much in the way of data. She had no idea if this particular group of GhostWalkers worked closely with Whitney or not—but his daughter and