Black Thorns (Thorns Duet #2) by Rina Kent

Maybe he’s corrupted beyond repair.

What happened to you? I want to ask, but I’m too afraid of the answer.

“Then you should at least have a sense of self-preservation and do as I say.”

“You mean, staying away from your husband?”

“Yes.”

“What do I get in return?”

“Your safety!”

“Pass.”

“What do you mean by pass?”

“You need to give me something.”

“Something like…what?” I sound spooked, even to my own ears.

“Agree first.”

“Not until I know the catch.”

“Your loss.” He releases me and steps back.

A gust of cold air covers my skin and it takes all my will to remain planted in place and not seek some sort of friction.

“The door is right behind you, Mrs. Mori.”

I want to go back a few seconds in time and shove that name back down his throat so he can’t say it again.

Or maybe I could go back seven years and prevent all the hell that broke loose.

Or maybe if I hadn’t been born as Abe Hitori’s daughter, I wouldn’t be standing here in the first place.

But all those options are impossible, so all I can do is focus on the now.

My shoulders straighten. “What do you want?”

“You’re not ready for what I want.”

“Tell me and I’ll decide.”

“Give me your new phone number.”

“Why?”

“I’ll text you a location. If you’re ready to find out what I really want, be there. If you’re not, I’ll move on.”





I’m still shaking from my meeting with Sebastian.

It got so bad that I had to spend a few minutes in the bathroom so I could sober up and get my shit together.

Then I drove to my father’s house, which is located in a well-secured neighborhood in Brooklyn. Thankfully, it’s far enough from our house that I don’t feel like Akira’s breathing down my neck.

I made it clear to Akira that I wouldn’t be moving around with his men following me and he surprisingly complied. I thought I’d have to fight to the death so he’d remove the bodyguards.

But then again, he’s a practical person and doesn’t mind losing a battle or two in order to win the war.

The security in my father’s house, however, is on another level. My car is searched thoroughly by his guards before I’m allowed through the gate.

I don’t have to drive up to the house, though. The only person I’m here for doesn’t spend much time indoors.

After parking the car near the back garden, I remove my heels and leave them beside my car, then step onto the grass barefoot.

The cold sensation is soothing against my hot, aching skin. It’s been that way since Sebastian touched me and spoke against my ear, awakening memories he had no damn business awakening.

And what’s with the whole, be there if you want to find out what I want?

Does he really think I’d start an affair or something?

Though I was about to when he had me by the throat against the door.

My thoughts scatter when a rustle of movement catches my attention.

A petite woman dressed in kendo gear is holding a bamboo sword and training by hitting a tree.

Her sharp, precise movements and erect posture are part of the discipline she’s been maintaining for over a decade.

My baby sister might only be twenty-one, but she has the aura of a thousand-year-old wise monk.

“Mio,” I call out gently.

She turns around, her sword held high and her dark eyes gleaming beneath her helmet. “Onee-chan!”

Older sister.

I never thought I’d like being called that until Mio said it shyly the first time.

Can I call you Onee-chan? She asked in a low voice while hiding behind Kai and that fucker Ren. Back then, she had her hair braided and wore a cute white and pink dress with matching flats. A blush covered her cheeks as she stared up at me for long moments.

I don’t think I’ve ever fallen in love with someone faster than I did then.

Mio was just another innocent soul trapped in the middle of bloody madness.

She quickens her steps toward me and stops a few steps away. “I’m sweaty.”

“Come here.” I pull her into a hug and she giggles against me, her helmet nuzzling into my chest.

We didn’t use to be so touchy when we first met. Mio was raised in the strict, traditionalist way and is usually against any type of touching. Sort of like Akira, who likes physical contact only when he initiates it and on his terms.

But my sister and I have become close enough to hug whenever we see each other.

She removes her helmet and grabs a towel from a tree, then wipes her neck and the sides of her face.

Her dark brown hair is tied in a bun. If it were loose, it’d reach the small of her back, but she never actually lets it down.

Her almond-shaped eyes give her round face a softer edge that fits with her tiny voice. Sometimes, I have to lean close to hear her talk.

“Papa told me you were coming back, but he didn’t tell me more, and Kai isn’t cooperative.” She speaks in a sophisticated American accent, thanks to all the homeschooling and prim and proper private teachers she’s had since she was born here.

“When is Kai ever cooperative?”