VIKTOR
The sun hadn't even cracked through Tokyo's skyline when I heard movement from Kairen's room. I'd been awake for hours, old habit. Sleep was something I did in shifts, never fully, never deeply. The kind of rest that kept you ready to kill at a moment's notice.
I stood in the hallway outside his door, arms crossed, waiting. The house was silent except for the distant hum of traffic below. Katya's place was all glass and steel, designed to look expensive and feel empty. It reminded me of a museum, pretty to look at, but nothing you'd want to touch.
The door opened.
Kairen stepped out, looking like he'd slept about as well as I had, which was to say, not at all. His hair was still damp from a shower, dark strands falling into his eyes. He was dressed in a black turtleneck and tailored pants, the kind of outfit that screamed wealth without trying. He looked almost put together.
