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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 significant—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 grandson were somewhere up in those mountains. Lily Whitney-Miller was married to a GhostWalker. She had worked with her father on some of the experiments. If anyone knew Whitney’s location, it would be his daughter.
    “These people are professionals with abilities similar to mine,” she reiterated quietly. “Do not take chances. If things go bad, don’t worry about me, just get out fast.”
    Daiki frowned at her. “You are repeating yourself, Azami,” he reprimanded. “Are you certain you’re ready to do this?”
    “I’ve waited all my life for this moment. Whitney is a monster and he has to be stopped,” she replied. “It is my destiny to find a way to cut him off from those he manipulates into aiding him, and then I will be able to stop him.”
    “We’ve had years to practice our roles,” Eiji pointed out. “We’ve played this out in front of the entire world and we won’t make a mistake. Believe in the skills our father taught us, little sister.”
    Daiki bent close. “We are brilliant businessmen to the world, but our father taught us the way to live, to be, and we are extraordinary warriors. We will not fail you or ourselves.”
    “Heads up,” Eiji warned.
    “Mr. Yoshiie?”
    Thorn turned slowly, her breath hissing out at her reaction to that low masculine voice. Serenity, she reminded herself as a powerfully built, coffee-skinned man with heavy muscles and an easy, fluid walk approached. His dark eyes were filled