Page 102 of Emperor of Lust

“Has Ishida-san told you yet about the samurai? He’s quite good with history, particularly the Edo period.”

He jams a finger into the wound on my stomach again, making me hiss in agony. Stars flicker in my vision as I bite back a scream.

“Has he told you aboutseppuku, Mr. Nikolayev? The ancient samurai ritual death by self-disembowelment. You’d cut acrosshere?—”

Without warning, he brings a blade out from behind him and slashes it across my stomach. I groan viciously as pain slams into me, blood flowing down my torso.

“Then—”

The lights go out.

A moment of silence follows, confusion blanketing the room. Ryu curses, yanking his phone out of his pocket and yelling for the guards. His phone illuminates his face and the gun he now holds in his other hand.

The guards rush in, also carrying sidearms. They close the door, surrounding Ryu as he backs closer to me.

“No one gets in,” he hisses at his men as all three of them aim their guns at the door.

It slams open without warning, crashing against the wall with enough force to rip it half off its hinges. A can tosses into the room.

Shit.

I squeeze my eyes shut as the flash grenade goes off like the surface of the sun popping in to say hello. Even with my eyes shut it’s blinding, and I can hear Ryu and the other guards screaming in agony.

Before I can process it, I feel the ropes at my wrists slacken, a knife slicing through them precisely.

“Let’s go, fucker,” Takeshi’s voice hisses in my ear.

I stumble, my legs screaming in protest, but Takeshi is there, unrelenting, hauling me to my feet as he drags me roughly past Ryu and the guards and out the door.

We move as fast as I’m able, Takeshi half-dragging me, slipping through the shadows, shouting and chaos echoing down the hall.

“What the hell did youdo?” I grunt, wincing as pain flares with every step.

He grins wickedly. “You don’t want to know.”

We burst out onto a third-floor balcony, and I finally realize where we are—an old warehouse overlooking the train tracks, an open car passing beneath us, loaded with what looks like…andsmells like…

My nose wrinkles…

Fish guts.

We’re at the harbor near Tokyo’s enormous fishing port.

Takeshi glances down, grimacing. “You’re not going to like this,” he says, almost apologetically. “If it helps, neither am I.”

Gunshots ring out behind us, splitting the night. Bullets shred the wood of the wall next to us as Ryu and the two guards come charging around the corner.

We don’t have a choice.

Takeshi grabs my arm and we leap off the edge, hurtling toward the rotting fish below as Kolya’s men shoot wildly, their shouts drowned out by the rush of wind and the pounding of my pulse.

We hit the car with a wet, revolting slosh. Takeshi grabs me, yanking me down into the stinking muck as bullets squelch and splatter around us.

The train keeps moving, pulling us away from the warehouse and around a bend, leaving the sound of gunfire and the fading shouts of the three men behind.

31

HANA

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