Page 131 of Emperor of Havoc

“I love you,” she whispers, her voice fragile but steady, like the first bud of spring breaking through the frost.

If it all went silent again right now, it’d be okay.

I got to hear her say it, even just once.

“I love you too,” I murmur, my voice cracking as I press my forehead to hers, letting the world fall away until it’s just us, breathing in the same broken rhythm.

“I love you.”

EPILOGUE

KATARINA

Three Months Later:

Impossible.

It can’t be.

I stare, my breath shallow and uneven. My legs feel like they’re going to give out from under me.

This doesn’t make sense.

My heart races, hammering against my ribs. Slowly, I stand and begin to pace the length of the bedroom in the guest house—the only livable part of the sprawling mansion formerly belonging to Miyamoto Kato that Takeshi and I now call home while the rest of the place undergoes renovations.

No. This has to be a mistake.

The sound of the front door opening pulls me from my confused thoughts. “Kat?” Takeshi calls out, his rough and deep voice instantly grounding me.

I suck in a breath, gripping the edge of the sink. “Coming!” I call back, trying to steady the quaver in my voice.

My voice.

Three months later, I’m still getting used to the concept ofhavinga voice again, never mind the sound of it.

Personally, I think I sound ridiculous. But I don’t really care: I’m just happy to be able to speak again. And Takeshi tells meeveryonethinks the sound of their own voice is weird.

He’s in the kitchen when I come downstairs, shrugging off his leather jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. His knuckles are bruised, faint streaks of blood staining the skin.

“Tough day at the office?” I smirk, leaning against the doorway.

He grins. “Eh, nothing I couldn’t handle.”

I arch a quizzical brow. “I thought you were…hands-off these days.”

With the Ishida-kai and the Mori-kai now firmly allied, and almost all of Tokyo under our shared control, the days of Takeshi being a knuckle-busting enforcer are meant to be over. He’ssupposedto be more of a behind-the-scenes, sit-in-an-office type now.

But I suppose that’s like telling Furrcules that he’s supposed to stay a cub forever.

You know, impossible. I still need to figure out what I'm going to do when the little fuzzball grows up.

“Tak…”

He rolls his eyes.

“I know. But trust me, this guy had it coming.”

“Uh-huh,” I say dryly. “Please, tell me more.”

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