by Lasky, Jesse
To all of those who have ever been
wronged… and so desperately wanted
to make it right
Contents
COVER
TITLE PAGE
DEDICATION
EPIGRAPH
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
CHAPTER SIXTY
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
COPYRIGHT
If you prick us do we not bleed?
If you tickle us do we not laugh?
If you poison us do we not die?
And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?
—SHAKESPEARE The Merchant of Venice
CHAPTER ONE
Ava winters looked out the window of the charter plane, taking in the desolate landscape below as the pilot banked toward a small patch of level land. Rebun Island, Japan, was even more remote than she had expected, the tiny landing strip surrounded on three sides by snow-covered cliffs and fronted by the frigid waters of the Rebun Channel.
Then again, she hadn’t expected it to be easy. She knew what she was signing up for when she’d accepted Takeda’s offer of training.
The plane touched down, bouncing over the frozen ground until it finally came to a stop. A minute later, the door opened and Ava exited with her small duffel bag in one gloved hand.
“Welcome to Japan,” the pilot said, stepping to the ground beside her.
“Thank you.” She turned her attention to the surrounding landscape, the wind whipping her long dark hair around her face. There was no airport, no taxi station, no people. She looked at the pilot, already heading back into the plane. “Wait! Where do I go from here?”
He glanced back, nodding at something behind her.
She turned around, peering into the distance until she could make out a building at the top of the jagged cliffs, the sea crashing violently against the rocks at its feet.
“But… how am I supposed to get there?” Ava asked.
“If you want this badly enough,” the pilot said, climbing into the plane and reaching for the door, “you will find a way.”
She was still in shock when the propellers began to move. For a minute, she could only watch as the plane took off into the steely sky. The hum of its engine had diminished to a faint buzz when a frigid wind blew in from the Rebun Channel, sending a shock of cold through her system. She shivered, pulling up the hood of her sweatshirt, and started walking.
The ground was icy, her warm breath turning to smoke as it hit the frigid air. Frost blanketed the cliffs in front of her but she kept her eyes on the ground, not wanting to trip and fall. She’d come to the island with a singular goal. An injury was the last thing she needed this early in the game.
After two hours of struggling to stay upright on the frozen soil, she finally reached the base of the cliff. Pausing to catch her breath, she tipped her head back, her gaze coming to rest on the old Japanese tera forty feet above her. She scanned the face of the cliff, hoping for some kind of hidden staircase, or at the very least, something resembling toeholds.
But there was nothing. Just a wall of sheer rock.
Taking a deep breath, she slung the duffel bag over her shoulder and across her chest, adjusting the strap so it fit snugly against her body. Then she started to climb. At first, she could hardly see the small crevices that could be used as footholds, the protruding rock she could use to pull herself upward. But after a while, her eyes became accustomed to scanning for the next indentation, the next thing to grab. As darkness began to seep across the sky, she became aware of her aching arms and forced herself to move faster. She didn’t have the luxury of hanging by her fingers, looking for the perfect place to put her feet.
The past had toughened her will, but she only had so much upper-body strength.
She was near the top when her foot slipped, a smattering of rocks falling into the abyss below as she clung to the cliff face, her breath coming fast and heavy, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest. She allowed herself only a minute to gather her courage before she started climbing again.
Her arms and legs were trembling when she finally heaved herself over the top of the cliff. She lay there for a minute, sweat coating her body despite the frigid temperatures. When she could breathe without gasping, she got to her feet and headed for the tera.
It was smaller than it had looked from the ground, and less imposing, with five pillars resting atop a gently curved roof. She’d read somewhere that it was a tradition of this kind of architecture, the pillars representing the Buddhist universe’s central elements: sky, wind, fire, water, and earth. The roof was a deep red, a punctuation mark against the snow-covered terrain.
But it was too cold to stand still, and she grabbed on to a bamboo pillar, one of many lining the walkway to the tera’s entrance, and walked toward two large doors at the front of the building. She was almost there, her steps slowing to a shuffle, when exhaustion overtook her. She dropped to her knees, closing her eyes and trying to find the strength to stand.
“You’re Ava Winters,” a voice said from behind her.
Ava turned in surprise, her gaze landing on a red-haired woman about her age. Ava tried to smile around the pain in her arms and legs, thinking the woman had come to greet her, but she only favored Ava with a steely glare before walking wordlessly past her.
Too tired to care, Ava got to her feet. She was inching her way forward when the doors to the tera opened. A stoic, authoritative man with a weathered face and strong build stood in the doorway. He said something to her in Japanese as the wind howled around them. She had no idea what the words meant, but it didn’t matter.
This was Satoshi Takeda.
An aura of strength and control emanated from him, temporarily
stopping her forward progress. A moment later, she remembered why she had come.
She met his gaze. “Takeda.”
Silence settled between them. Even the wind seemed to calm in the face of his presence.
Finally, he nodded.
Ava bowed. “I’m ready to start my training.”
CHAPTER TWO
Ava sits across from her grandmother, morning sun flooding the south dining hall of the Napa Valley Country Club. Ava is fourteen years old, and while she loves coming to the club with her grandmother, it doesn’t dim the recent loss of her parents.
Her grandmother gazes with concern at Ava’s untouched plate. “Ava, you must eat. I know it’s hard, but your parents would want you to be healthy and well. You know that, don’t you?”
Ava hears the worry in her grandmother’s voice and picks up her fork. “Sometimes I don’t remember them,” she says guiltily, forcing a bite of poached egg into her mouth.
“That’s what I’m here for, my dear,” her grandmother says gently. “To remind you.” She reaches across the table to squeeze Ava’s free hand. “And the vineyard will remind you, too. Every breeze. Every harvest. Every vine.”
Ava musters a smile. Just thinking about the vineyard brings her comfort. Her parents may be gone, but their presence lingers in the soil at Starling, in the wine aging in barrels in the cellar, the wind rustling the vines. As long as Ava has it, they’ll always be near.
Ava is taking another bite, feeling the tiniest bit better, when a man approaches her grandmother. Tall and distinguished, his hair frosted with silver, he’s wearing a suit and tie despite the fact that it’s Sunday and quite warm. He pulls out the chair and joins them almost before her grandmother can register his presence.
“Hello, Sylvie,” the man says. “Looking lovely as ever.”
Ava’s grandmother looks up, her elegant features turning into an emotionless mask. “I’d ask what you want, Mr. Reinhardt, but I’ve never been one for pretenses.”
The man’s laugh is brittle. “One of the things I admire about you.”
She waves a hand in dismissal. “You have my answer; I will never sell Starling. There’s nothing else to be said about the matter.”
The man named Reinhardt nods. “So you’ve said.” He reaches across the table, plucking an apple from the bowl of fruit at its center. He bites into it, his gaze falling on Ava.
“You know the story of Adam and Eve, don’t you, sweetheart? About the apple in the Garden of Eden?”
Ava’s eyes slide to her grandmother before she looks back at the man and nods.
“Do you know what made Eve want the apple so badly?”
Ava thinks about it, wanting to get the answer right, although she could not have said why. “Because the devil tricked her?” she suggests shyly.
The man sets the fruit down, dabbing at his mouth with one of the linen napkins. “Because she was told she couldn’t have it.” The man’s expression hardens. “And that just made her want it more.”
The sky was still painted with pink and orange when Ava arrived at the training area behind the tera. She had hardly slept, the ghosts of her past swirling through the haze of half-sleep until she couldn’t be sure if she was awake or dreaming. She was glad to be outside, glad to finally begin her journey. Sleep wouldn’t come easy until her demons were exorcised.
The training room was about a half mile behind the tera. A smaller version of the main house, the structure was surrounded on three sides by large stone walls. The fourth side needed no marker. It ended at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the far-reaching sea.
It wasn’t as cold as it had been the day before, but that wasn’t saying much. It was still a million times colder than Napa. Ava forced herself not to think about it. Cold was minor compared to what she had endured, compared to what she was willing to endure to see vengeance served.
She entered the training area through a wooden door, surprised to find a powerfully built man with short sandy hair already inside.
“Hi,” Ava said quietly, unsure about the rules and customs of their training.
He nodded. “Hey.”
She stepped forward, extending a hand. “I’m Ava Winters, resident new kid.”
He chuckled, taking her hand, his brown eyes guarded. “Jon West. And I thought I was the new kid.”
“It’s your first day, too?” Ava asked.
“It is,” he confirmed. There was something dark behind his confident gaze, and a powerful current of attraction flooded Ava’s body as his eyes held hers.
Before she could respond, another guy, tall and lean, burst into the room, Reena, the flinty-eyed redhead from the night before, at his side.
“The newbies have arrived!” he exclaimed, opening his arms magnanimously.
“You’re such an asshole, Cruz.” Reena rolled her eyes affectionately before smiling at him. “I like that about you.”
Their exchange was familiar, like they’d replayed the same scene many times before.
The guy named Cruz gave Reena a slow grin, the chemistry between them a palpable presence in the room.
A moment later, Takeda stepped through the weathered door, his expression solemn. Cruz immediately fell in line next to Reena, his lighthearted demeanor gone. After a brief hesitation, Ava and Jon followed suit, taking their cues from the more experienced students. They watched Takeda reverently as he paced in front of them.
“Revenge,” Takeda began, “is not a swift blow to the skull or the simple pull of a trigger, although you will learn these things in the event that something goes awry in your quest. Rather, revenge is death by a thousand cuts, a slow and calculated process to make your enemies suffer as you have. This is not cruelty. It is a restoration of justice, of balance.”
Takeda stopped in front of Ava, meeting her eyes as if he was speaking only to her.
“You must dedicate yourself to revenge. It is not a hobby. Not a part-time pursuit. It will consume you. It will engulf you. But with my guidance, it will also empower you.”
Faces flashed across Ava’s mind. Charlie. William Reinhardt.
And everyone who helped them take what was hers.
“Together we will map a course to bring justice to every person who has wronged you,” Takeda continued, resuming his pacing in front of the group. “But to exact revenge without preparation is suicide, and first among these preparations is control. You must learn to control your emotions, your mind, your body, so that you may act with a clear head and a focused heart. I will teach you this control.”
Takeda’s words were still ringing through the training room when the door opened and a young woman stepped in quietly. Slender, with long blond hair twisted into a loose braid, she looked even younger than Ava. Somehow the scar that ran across one cheek only added to her fragile beauty. Eyes downcast, she took up a position apart from Ava and the others.
Ava refocused on Takeda as he stopped in front of Jon, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Revenge is not an option. It is a need. A burning desire to right the wrongs of those who have taken someone from you.”
Daring a glance at Jon, Ava was surprised to see his impassive expression turn steely. Is that why he was here? Because someone had been taken from him?
Takeda walked farther down the line, stopping in front of Cruz. “To right the wrongs of those who have crossed you…” Cruz stared straight ahead, unflinching, as Takeda continued to Reena. “To right the wrongs of those who have destroyed everything without consequence. Without remorse.” He gazed at each of them as he made his way back to Ava. When he spoke again, his words seemed meant just for her. “Revenge is a room with an entrance but no exit. Are you ready to walk inside?”
CHAPTER THREE
Flashbulbs pop, unrelenting as twenty-four-year-old Reena walks out of notorious Los Angeles hot spot Lily’s Lounge holding a martini glass in one hand and a second martini glass in the other. It’s only 2 p.m., but as the cliché goes, it’s five o’clock somewhere,
and Reena never misses an opportunity to cause a scene.
It’s what the paparazzi love best about her.
“Reena! Reena! What’s your mother going to say?” one of the tabloid journalists calls out, waiting on the bustling boulevard outside to snap as many photos as he can of her.
“The senator has bigger things to worry about than me,” Reena scoffs as she spills gin all over herself, stepping into a decadent black limousine.
She’s rash and reckless, but okay with it. All of it. She doesn’t need structure, just an open bar.
“Do you think your mother will get reelected?” the vultures shout.
Reena downs her drink and puts on her large sunglasses. “Dunno. That would mean I was paying attention.”
Reena slammed the wooden bow into the dense, frigid sand as Cruz jumped away, narrowly escaping the blow.
They were on the beach below the tera. Takeda and the other students stood off to the side, observing Reena and Cruz’s training exercise.
“Pay attention to the moves he hasn’t yet made,” Takeda advised. “Your rage distracts you.”
The criticism got under Reena’s skin, raising her ire even as she continued to circle Cruz, looking for another opportunity to gain the upper hand.
“My rage is what fuels me!” she shouted.
She swung the bow behind her back, using the momentum to bring it forward, nailing Cruz in the thigh. He dropped to the ground in pain, grunting in frustration as Reena walked over his fallen body to place her bow in front of Takeda.
“You lack sympathy,” Takeda stated.
Reena walked toward the others, Takeda’s words echoing in her ears. She assumed it was a compliment, but there was something in the way he said it that made her wonder. She fell in line, the waves just reaching her bare toes. Reena gritted her teeth against the frigid water. Physical discomfort she could endure.
It was knowing that no one had paid for her mother’s death that was unbearable.
She pushed the thought away. She was taking steps to remedy the situation. It’s why she was here. She had to focus. And even her feelings for Cruz couldn’t get in the way.
She watched as Jon bent down, picking up Cruz’s bow from the sand near his feet. He walked over to where Cruz lay, still recovering from Reena’s blow, and offered him a hand.
