Page 124 of Emperor of Lust

“No,” I growl. “He can’t know. Not yet.”

“What the fuck!?” she hisses. “Why not?! Damian, we need to?—”

“Freya!”

The sharpness in my tone silences her. I exhale slowly.

“Freya,” I say, quieter now. “Please. Trust me on this.”

There’s a pause. “Okay, what do you need?” she says tightly.

"Who would benefit from pitting the Mori-kai against the Ishida-kai?" I ask. “Assuming neither side wins.”

She’s quiet for a second, thinking. “Any other syndicate in Tokyo, for one,” she finally replies. “Take out the two biggest players, it’s open season. Anyone and everyone would try to fill the power vacuum.”

I nod slowly as it settles into place. “But they’d have to be big enough and strong enough to back that up, right? And they’d need to move quickly—be ready the split second a war started to swoop in and pick up the pieces.”

She takes a sharp breath. “You don’t think this is a random player…”

My jaw clenches. “Freya,think. Who would be able to fill the gap and already have the pieces in place?”

There’s a beat of silence, and then I hear her gasp quietly at the same moment it clicks with me, too.

Holy fuck.

I close my eyes, bitter rage clawing up my chest. “Miyamoto.”

“Wait, seriously?” she whispers.

“He rallied atonof smaller families to his, with the promise that they’d be absorbed into the Mori-kai once the merger happened. But that means, with all those guys reporting to him, he’s the third biggest Yakuza family in Tokyo right now.”

“Fucking hell, Damian,” she says. “We have to tell Kenzo?—”

“No.”

“What?” She blurts. “Damian?—”

“Frey, if you tell Kenzo, Kolya will kill him,” I hiss darkly.

Okay, that’s not what Kolya said. But I’m not worried about Kenzo right now.

I’m worried aboutFreya, and the fact that Kolya has a sniper on her. If I say anything or tell her to run, there’s a chance she’ll be killed before she can get away.

I also don’t want to scare the hell out of her.

“What thefuck, Damian! We?—”

“Yeah, still need you to just trust me,” I hiss. “Please, Frey.”

She draws in a shaky breath and then exhales.

“Okay,” she says quietly. “I’m all ears. What do you need?”

“One, trace Miyamoto,” I mutter. “And two, how easy would it be for you to shut down a tracking device?”

“What kind of tracking device?”

“The kind strapped to my ankle right now.”

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