Jade War

It did not make any sense. Maro could not have planted a car bomb. He and Shae had not ended their relationship on speaking terms, a fact that saddened her and filled her with regret, but Maro was not a vindictive personality. He had no clan interests, no appetite for violence, and no matter what anger he might feel toward her, he had nothing at all to gain from killing Hilo.

“They weren’t supposed to hurt anyone else,” Maro said quietly. “That’s what they promised me. I would never have cooperated if I thought they might hurt you or the children.”

If there had been something nearby for Shae to hold on to, she would’ve reached out to steady herself. “The meeting that you asked me to set up with Hilo months ago. That was this morning.” Understanding pushed into her resisting mind like a thin blade. “That’s how the assassins got in.”

Maro’s face crumpled like paper. “The meeting was real,” he said. “None of the Four Virtues staff were in on the plan, I swear to you on my life. All I was asked to do was add a couple of fake college interns to the group at the last minute. They told me to get them through the gates to see the Pillar, that was all. They never gave me any other details.”

Juen drew in a breath between his teeth. The idea of an enemy trying to strike at the Pillar in his own home was inconceivable. All of Hilo’s meetings were approved by his Pillarman, Weather Man, or Horn. An aspiring murderer’s hostile intentions would be Perceived by the guards and he would never get anywhere near the Pillar, nor would he escape alive. However, one or two unarmed visitors with seemingly legitimate credentials and no jade, attached to an otherwise honest party, would not raise suspicion. Once through the gates, they could find an opportunity to wander a short distance to the family garage. It was clear from Maro’s wretched look that despite his complicity in the affair, he had not anticipated a planted car bomb any more than they had.

“Who were they?” Shae felt as if she’d been stabbed and the knife was lodged in her rib cage. “Who approached you?”

Maro pressed the base of one palm to his eyes. “There were three of them. The leader was half-Shotarian and wore jade hidden. I heard the others call him Soradiyo.”

“Barukan.” Juen spat. “I’ve heard the name Soradiyo before. He’s a rockfish recruiter who works for Zapunyo.”

The expectant stares and auras of the surrounding Fists and Fingers were like a hot physical pressure against Shae’s skin. She turned to Juen. “Let me talk to him alone for a few minutes.” After a second, she added in an undertone, “Please,” because as Weather Man, she had no authority over Fists, and with Maik Kehn’s death, Juen Nu was now the acting Horn of No Peak.

Juen shifted a slow gaze to the prisoner on the ground, then returned it to the Weather Man. He motioned for the other Green Bones to back off and take up vigilant positions elsewhere, but he himself made no move to leave. “It would be irresponsible of me to leave you alone with this man, Shae-jen,” Juen said, and Shae understood this to be less an expression of concern for her safety than a reminder that as Horn, he was her equal, and had every right to hear what was said if it involved threats to the clan. Shae did not try to argue further. The inside of her throat seemed to be swelling and she was afraid it would soon close up completely. She made herself walk to Maro and kneel in front of him so their eyes were on the same level. “Why did you do it?” The whisper that emerged from her throat was dry and unrecognizable. Plaintive. “Did I hurt you that badly?”

Maro’s eyes filmed with sadness. “Yes. But that’s not why.” He dropped his face into his hands. “They got to me, Shae. The barukan gangs are powerful in Shotar, and they’re ruthless. They found out about my visits and phone calls to Leyolo City.” Maro’s shoulders were shaking now and his voice was muffled. “At first, they tried to blackmail me with the information. When I refused and ignored them, they sent me photos of my father. Of my half sisters and little nieces behind the windows of their homes. Close-up pictures of them in their neighborhood, at school, on the playground. I was told that if I didn’t do as Soradiyo asked, something would happen to them. They would never know why.”

Shae gripped Maro’s forearms and pulled his hands away from his face. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve done something—protected your family, gone after the barukan…”

Maro raised his eyes and the bleak accusation she saw in them dried the words in her mouth. “Did you tell anyone when you felt threatened? When you realized you had no choice?” he asked. Shae could not reply. Maro had been visibly nervous the evening after Woon’s wedding, wanting to talk, hoping for reconciliation. Instead of offering it to him, she’d told him the truth that she knew would drive him away.