Ricco downed the Scotch, feeling it burn all the way down his throat and into his belly before he turned and faced the others, trying not to see the images burned so deeply into his mind he’d never been able to get them out. “It wasn’t just Akiko. They killed her father and grandmother as well as two servants. Akiko fought them, and the noise brought her father and grandmother running along with two of the people who had worked for their family for years. The four boys killed them. I got there late and found the bodies of her grandmother and servants. There was blood everywhere.”

“Ricco,” Francesca murmured, “how awful.”

“I still can’t close my eyes without seeing that sight. When I entered the house I almost stepped on her grandmother’s body. They’d nearly sliced her into pieces just outside the door of the small room where she held court. One of the female servants was just to the right of her. She’d been slashed with a sword down her back and was still dying. The other was nearly decapitated. The attacks had come from behind. Two of the boys had lain in wait for the father and servants while Nao and the other one dealt with Akiko and her grandmother. When I got there, the first two were still hacking at the bodies of the servants. I took the swords away, and I killed them. It wasn’t easy – I have the scars on my chest and down my thigh.”

He touched the three slashes he kept covered by his clothing at all times, remembering the feel of the blade cutting through his flesh.

“Oh my God, Ricco,” Emmanuelle whispered. “You were only fourteen, younger than they were. You took on two riders with swords and managed to stay alive?”

“I had no choice,” he said. “Not if I was going to try to save Akiko.”

“You’re telling me four riders from four of the families in Japan used their abilities to murder innocents?” Stefano asked. His voice was low, but it was a whip. “Which families? Tell me now. I need to hear you confirm that these boys were the sons of the riders on the council.”

He had known Stefano would be furious. Breaking the code of a shadow rider was the worst thing one could do. The code of honor was put in place to protect every rider, their families and every innocent human being they came across.

“Three families,” Ricco corrected. “You know Nao Yamamoto. His father, Isamu Yamamoto, was head of the council overseeing all riders in Japan at that time. The other two members had sons.”

“Ricco.” It was a warning. “Stop stalling.” Stefano pressed his fingers to the corners of his eyes, putting pressure there.

He wasn’t stalling so much as trying not to go back to that moment when he stood before the council members, knowing he’d killed their sons and they could do anything to him and no one would know.

“Eiji and Hachiro Saito followed Nao anywhere he went. They were bullies, believing, because their father, Dai Saito, sat on the council in Japan, no one could touch them. They both had swords that night. They were the ones who killed the two servants.”

Stefano swept a hand over his face as if trying to sweep away the things his brother told him. “This should have been taken to the International Council. Those men lied about the deaths. Who was the last boy?” Of course he knew. His mother had attended the funerals of the boys, paying their respects to the riders who had lost their children. Mikio Ito was the other council member.

“Kenta Ito, Mikio Ito’s son,” Ricco confirmed.

“This is a disgrace. A fucking disgrace,” Stefano bit out. “The top three families of riders. Council members. Lying to other riders, pulling that shit off because as council members they had the ability to tell a story with emotion that could muddy hearing. Their sons were murderers. Damn it, Ricco, we should have been told.”

Ricco’s gaze swept the room. His brothers were stunned. Shock showed on Emmanuelle’s face. Such a thing was unheard of. Lying to the world of riders. It was a small, closed group, and they counted on honesty. On truth. On honor above all else.

Ricco shook his head slowly. “I couldn’t tell you.”

Stefano opened his mouth and then snapped it closed. Giovanni got up and took the cut crystal glasses and poured more Scotch, handing them back before seating himself again. He took his time, making certain everyone had a chance to recover from the sheer shock.

“Tell us all of it,” Vittorio encouraged. “This is turning my stomach, but we have to know.”

“It was Kenta Ito who killed Akiko’s father. He painted his face with her father’s blood and was dancing around Akiko and Nao. They wanted her to see that her family was dead. Nao had raped Akiko and he cut her to pieces. She was still alive, and Nao told her he was going to kill her little brother and sister. He told her he would violate her sister in front of her before he killed her. Her sister was three years old. Her brother was fifteen months.”

Francesca gasped and put a hand to her throat. Stefano immediately drew her close, beneath the protection of his shoulder.

“Power corrupts.” Taviano repeated what Stefano had drilled into them from the time they were toddlers. “Clearly those boys believed themselves above everyone else rather than servants of the people.”

“I came into the room and overheard what he was saying. Kenta turned to face me. He had a sword, just like the others, and he was big and very strong.” He had known fear back then, facing that blade and the anger and hatred of Kenta and Nao. “They believed me to be less than what they were. Akiko was less. Her family. Her father could no longer ride the shadows and was considered an outcast and dishonored. I had to fight them no matter how afraid I was of them. Akiko was still alive and I could see the desperation on her face. She didn’t have anyone else to save her siblings.”

Ricco couldn’t stand any longer. The restless energy was there inside him, demanding he move, but his body, still recovering, couldn’t oblige him. He took the chair facing Stefano. This was a confession, pure and simple, and it was Stefano who would judge him. Giovanni, Vittorio and Taviano would stand solidly with him. Emmanuelle had the softest heart and would never think him guilty of anything. She would most likely view him as a hero.

He knew he held responsibility. He hadn’t studied the way he should have and he’d gotten turned around in the shadows of Tokyo. He hadn’t gone with the boys that night to try to convince the elders that the others were up to no good because he didn’t believe they would listen. He knew the council members would make his life even more miserable than it already was. Then there was the matter of the actual killings. The boys, no matter what they had done, were riders. There was a code – an unbreakable code.

“Kenta and I fought and while we did, Nao went to the closet and yanked open the door. I could see the little girl crouched on the floor holding her little brother, her hand over his mouth. He dragged the boy out and threw him on the floor, stomping on him over and over. Bones broke. I heard them. The sound was sickening. The little girl, only three years old, rushed him. She leapt into the air and kicked Nao with both feet right in the balls, driving him away from her brother. When she landed, she hit Akiko’s blood and slipped, falling almost at Nao’s feet. Kenta had sliced me a couple of times. I had to get possession of the sword and take him out. I stepped close and he swung just like I knew he would. I pulled my head back, but the tip sliced my face open.”