Wildcard (Warcross #2)(94)

“I’m in.”





35



The front entrance of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Headquarters is crowded with people this morning, just as it has been for weeks. As my car pulls up, people turn and start to gather around, their cameras and attention now pointed at me. I look out at the sea of faces. They’re all still here because today is the day that Hideo will be moved from this place to start serving out his time.

Everyone is gathered here, hoping to hear some news. There’s been no official announcement yet about his sentence.

Microphones are thrust in my direction as the car door opens, and shouts fill the air. I keep my head down as bodyguards push back the throngs to let me pass. I don’t look up again until we’ve reached the inside of the building. There, I bow my head briefly to an officer and follow him up the elevators.

Someone greets me as I get off. “Chen-san,” she says, bowing low to me in greeting. I return the gesture. “Please, follow me. We’ve been expecting you.”

She takes me down a hall to an interrogation room with a long glass window. Along the outside wall stand half a dozen police officers, their faces turned sternly forward. It’s as if they’re guarding someone who is the most dangerous criminal in the world. Maybe they’re right—through the window, I can see a familiar figure sitting alone at the table, waiting. It’s Hideo.

They bow their heads at the sight of me, then open the door to let me in. When I step inside, he looks up and gives me a small smile that sends a rush of warmth through me.

I hadn’t realized I missed him so much.

The room is small and plain. One wall has the glass window I’d seen from the outside, while its opposite wall is an enormous black screen that extends from ceiling to floor. In the center of the room is a single table with two chairs. Hideo is seated in one of those chairs now.

“Hey,” I say as I take the seat across from him.

“Hey,” he replies.

Everything about this moment should remind me of when I’d faced him at Henka Games as a small-time bounty hunter, anxious and awkward. Hideo looks as polished as ever; I’m opposite him, wondering what he’s thinking.

This time, though, a set of silver handcuffs binds Hideo’s hands together. His side is still healing, and underneath his fitted shirt, I can see the telltale sign of bandages wrapped around his waist. I’m no longer dressed in my torn jeans and black hoodie—but in a sharp, tailored suit of my own. Hammie had helped me pull my hair up into a high bun. It’s the looking-glass version of our first meeting.

There are also other differences that matter. He looks tired, but his eyes are alert, his expression more open than I’ve ever seen it.

We search the other’s gaze. He notices the change in my appearance, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he says, “I didn’t think you’d come to see me.”

“Why’s that?”

He smiles a little, amused and shy. “I thought you were already headed back to the States.”

There’s something broken in his words that makes me sad. I think of the way he’d turned his face up to me in the panic room, what he’d murmured to me when he thought he was uttering his dying words. I think of his arms around his little brother, his words through his tears. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

Now, after everything we’ve gone through, he’s hesitant to believe that we could ever find our way back to our beginning again. He is ready for his punishment.

I clear my throat and say, “Are you going home today?”

He nods. Hideo may technically have a prison term, but there’s no way the police can keep someone of his status in a regular penitentiary, with all of the attention and disruption he would bring. Like other prominent people of the world, he’s going to be serving out his sentence under house arrest, with a small army of police around his property and the government keeping a close watch on what he does.

Hideo shakes his head, and for a moment he looks idly toward the glass window, lost in thought. I don’t need to say anything to know that he’s thinking about his brother. “We were never well matched, were we? There’s no version of our story that wouldn’t have been doomed from the start.”

“If I were to do this all again, Hideo, I’d still have to hunt you down.”

“I know.”

I’m quiet for a second. “It doesn’t mean I don’t still have feelings for you.”

He turns to study me, and all I can think about is what the world would be like if Taylor had never taken an interest in his brother. If my father had never died young and I hadn’t been so desperate for money. How did this chain of events end with me sitting here across from Hideo, our positions of power flipped, the question of what if hanging in the air?

“I’m sorry, Emika,” he says. “Truly.” And the pinch in his eyes, the wince he tries to hide, tells me he’s being sincere.

I take a deep breath. “Ms. Kapoor called me. The new CEO of Henka Games. They’re going to rebuild the NeuroLink and have invited me on board. I’ve accepted her offer.”

At first, I can’t tell how Hideo feels about this news. Surprised? Resigned? Maybe he always guessed that the NeuroLink couldn’t die completely, that someone else would eventually take the reins. I don’t know how he feels about that someone turning out to be me.