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“You mistake my intentions, Mr. Black,” the man says. “I’m not trying to stop you at all. I merely want to speak with your wife.”
Gabriel frowns savagely next to me.
“And why exactly would you like to do that?” he snaps.
“Because…” the Japanese-and-Nordic Viking of a man smiles as his gaze slides to me. “We have something in common.”
“Who are you?” I murmur quietly, eying him. I’m unable to shake this weird feeling about him, and it’s freaking me out.
“My name is Kenzo,” he murmurs.
“And what do we have in common?”
He smiles.
“Hideo Mori is our father.”
EPILOGUE
GABRIEL
Two months later:
I’ve always wanted to make a course correction.
Fix the scale.
Restore balance.
And two months after Kyoto, that’s exactly what we have: balance. Restoration.
Peace.
As I’m sworn in on the steps of Tweed Courthouse—the same steps where I stood with Fumi at my side and announced my candidacy months ago—I reach down and take her hand in mine.
With both Takato and Orochi dead, the Hato-kai Yakuza is unraveling. But the Mori-kai is beginning to stir awake again, with Kenzo at its helm.
The whole thing is complicated, and that’s putting it mildly. But slowly, Fumi has been reaching out to her newly discovered half-brother. There’s no saying where that relationship will go yet. Time will tell.
Time, like me, tends to correct courses that have temporarily gone astray. Like Hideo, for instance: his cancer is now in remission after aggressive treatment with Dr. Jalisco.
I’ve returned his sword, which is now back on the wall behind his bed.
Another course correction would be the fate of the former and disgraced Governor Hall, who’s having his first day in court next week when the first of his several criminal trials kicks off. I happen to know the DA leading the prosecution. Preston is fuuucked.
But today isn’t about correcting the past. It’s about moving forward, and the future.
It’s about Fumi and me.
I clear my mind as I turn to grin at her. She grins back, her hand squeezing mine. I finish repeating the oath of office. With a smile on my face and the woman I love at my side, I turn to face the crowd and the cameras as the applause thunders throughout lower Manhattan.
In front of everyone, I turn and pull my wife into my arms. I cup her cheek, lifting her chin as my eyes lock on hers.
“Congratulations, Governor Black,” she grins.
“Why thank you, Mrs. Black.”
Her lip sucks between her teeth, then I lower my mouth to hers.
