Time, a good plan, and for the gods to be on our side. For the stars to align and the wind to blow just right. We’d also need a shitload of money, like Vic said. All that and we might have a slim chance of succeeding. I felt my body tingle with a rush of excitement. “I can’t see any other way to force Jin’s hand.” I ran my thumb over the cool handle of the knife, then met Victor’s eyes in challenge. “The man isn’t just underhanded or greedy—he’s a murderer. He needs to be stopped.”

I flicked my gaze toward Lingyi. If she was in, then everyone else would follow.

She gave a single nod of her head. “Let’s start planning, then,” Lingyi said.

CHΔPTER THREE

ONE MONTH AFTER THE KIDNAPPING

The July swelter didn’t stop the Taipei youth from coming out in droves, seeking some sort of entertainment and escape on a Friday night. Pedestrians jostled against me, many sipping teas and juices kept at an icy temperature in slender takeaway bottles. The thick, stagnant air reeked of perfume, cigarettes, and exhaust. Everyone was barefaced, wanting to flaunt their features instead of hiding beneath blank masks. To be able to flirt with their lips, to be able to kiss. But I wasn’t fooled by the dark—the air was still poisonous. Even if we couldn’t see the brown haze, it smothered our city lit in neon.

I passed a corner 7-Eleven, its glass doors opening for a group of teens who could only afford to “party” in the convenience store. A column of cold air blasted toward me before the doors slid shut. The group—three girls and two boys, their hair dyed in bright fuchsias and purples, joined friends who were already inside, sipping on cheap beers and smoking even cheaper cigarettes beneath a large vent, which sucked the crap right back out into the night sky.

The truly poor huddled along the sidewalks, propped themselves against buildings, or lay like sick dogs. They murmured in hoarse tones, begging for food, coin, water, drugs, clothes—anything. They’d lick the grease off of your Snappy Chicken wrappers if you tossed them over.