Page 32 of Emperor of Havoc

TAKESHI

The Ishida estatehums with low laughter, polite applause, and the clink of expensive crystal glassware.

The engagement celebration is extravagant, with power oozing from every corner and guest. Lanterns cast a gold and crimson glow over the stone pathways in the courtyard and the koi pond rippling like liquid glass. Guards patrol quietly, so out of the way you don’t even know they’re there.

It’s a perfectly orchestrated display of strength and tradition. That’s what Kolya does—he puts on a show.

Even if he’s, strangely, notattendingthis particular performance.

I’ve already seen Katarina—via Nina—explain to more than a few guests that her father has been “unfortunately pulled away for work”. I don’t buy it for a second.

It’s common knowledge that Kolya has a disdain for the Yakuza world, despite being virtually at the top of that particular food chain. I’m guessing that sourness comes from his history with that side of his heritage, i.e., his grandfather banishing hismother when she fell for a Russian man. Interestingly, it’s been said that Kolya has the same disdain for the Bratva world for doing the same to his father, for falling for a Japanese woman.

But despite all that, Kolya knows how to work the room like a virtuoso. And he understands perfectly the niceties and nuances of this image game we all play.

He’dnevermiss his daughter’s engagement party, even if the whole thing is bullshit and he probably hates the groom, i.e., me.

Which begs the question:where the fuck is he?

For the moment, I tuck that question aside as I grab a drink from a passing waiter, sip it, and smile a predatory smile at anyone staring at me with a wrinkled nose and a wary expression.

There’s alotof wrinkled noses and wary expressions.

The rest of my siblings are here as well. But none of them, not even Mal, really has the same…reputationthat I do. Even Damian, for all his violent lunacy, doesn’t get the same reproachful stares from the crowd.

They look at me out of the corners of their eyes like I’m the crazy motherfucker who slipped in through the back door, unsure yet if I’m going to do something explosive. That’s fine. I didn’t come here for their approval.

I came to get in deep.

To worm my way in.

And to uncover the truth about Akira.

That’s what drives me, even as the suit I’m wearing chafes my skin and the polite smiles fray my nerves. I drift through the crowd like smoke, my presence undeniable. I’m not here to bidfor a seat at the table—I’m here to take the table apart, piece by piece.

And these men have no idea.

The first Ishida-kaially I approach is older, gray dusting his temples and complexirezumitattoos peeking out from the cuffs of his suit. Yamamoto, if memory serves. I’ve done my homework. He’s loyal to Kolya, but practical. He’ll listen if what I’m offering makes sense.

I’m not saying my plan is to start subtly peeling Kolya’s allies away and turn them intomyallies…

…But I’m not saying that'snotmy plan, either.

“Beautiful evening,” I say, offering him a smile that’s just friendly enough to disarm.

He nods warily, his posture stiff. “Indeed.”

“Kolya-san has built something truly extraordinary here,” I continue, gesturing around us. “A legacy that will last generations. But you and I both know legacies require careful, steady hands to protect them.”

Yamamoto regards me carefully, weighing every word. “And you think those hands are yours?”

“I think they could beours,” I reply, my voice measured. “Your loyalty runs deep, Yamamoto-san. And loyalty deserves a reward. Under my guidance—under our partnership—the Ishida-kai will grow. This city will belong to us in ways itnever has before. And with growth comes rewards…” I smile. “Especially to those whom I call friend.”

His brows lift slightly. “Bold words from a man who has not yet married the boss’s daughter.”

“Bold words are what built this empire in the first place,” I counter. “And bold actions will protect it.”

Before Yamamoto can respond, a familiar voice interrupts us.

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