Page 70 of Emperor of Lust

A tense silence settles between us.

“My sister,” I say tightly, “in case your boss hasn’t heard, ismarriedto Kenzo Mori.”

Ryu shrugs. “Not your sister by blood.” He lets the words hover in the air.

I don’t give a shit if I’m not technically related to Annika. She’s been a sister to me since our paths first crossed years ago.

“You have a choice to make,” he says with another dismissive shrug. “Cling to your arrangement with the Mori-kai, a faded empire that’s not what it once was.” His lips curl. “Or, ally yourself with the Ishida-kai. Be wise, Mr. Nikolayev. Choose the winning side of history.”

My eyes lock with his. “Is that a threat?”

Ryu’s expression is unblinking. “It’s whatever you want it to be.” He adjusts his collar, flicking off invisible lint. “You have a week to consider. After that, the terms will change.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I growl, clenching my fists.

Ryu’s eyes harden. “It means…” He leans in closer, his voice a lethal whisper. “One member of your family, every five days, until you decide to make the right choice.”

My reaction is instant. I grab him by the throat, feeling his even pulse under my hand, his calmness as maddening as his threat. “My Yakuza-speak is a little rusty,” I snarl, the darkness in me surging, out for blood. “Why don’t you translate for me.”

Ryu looks at me, unfazed, and tilts his head. “I’m sure your Yakuza-speak is quite adequate for this conversation.”

“Even so,” I hiss, reaching into my jacket with my free hand. “Allow me to respond in a language we both speak fluently.”

The blade flicks open as I yank it out of my jacket and bring it to Ryu’s jugular.

Ryu clears his throat delicately. Movement surrounds me, and I’m suddenly hyper-aware that there are five men strategically placed around us, their hands hovering inside their jackets. I catch the glint ofkatanahilts.

“Your move, Mr. Nikolayev,” Ryu murmurs, his voice thin and poisonous.

Slowly, I release him, fury simmering beneath my skin. He straightens, adjusting his collar again. “Think about it,” he says quietly, turning away. “Though I’d advise you not to think too long.”

I watch in silence as he and his men slip like shadows into the crowd before disappearing entirely.

Fuck. I need some air.

I thread my way through the crowded foyer to one of the quieter corridors, finally able to breathe. As I round a corner, my gaze locks onto a scene that drains every ounce of whatever patience I have left in a heartbeat.

Hana stands there, looking up at a man who has his arms around her in a casual hug. He smiles at her, and every cell in my body roars formurder, burning away any sense of rationality.

I march toward them even as he turns and walks away. My steps are deliberate, my fists clenched. She doesn’t notice me until she spins, startled, and bumps right into my chest, gasping as she looks up.

“Who thefuckwas that?” I growl sharply.

Then I realize Hana’s shaking, her face white and haggard, like she’s just seen a ghost. The look in her eyes is the same one she had last night: haunted, raw, like she’s miles away from this room. From me. From everything.

Without thinking, I pull her into my arms, wrapping her in my warmth, holding her tight.

“Who was that?” I ask again, softer this time.

She trembles. “He…that night. He…”

I turn cold when it clicks.

That night.

The night she told me about, there were two others there, off-camera. They laughed and did nothing while she screamed and cried. Every nerve in my body snaps to attention, and I see red like it’s the only color that exists.

“Who,” I growl, quietly but venomously.

---