Page 33 of Emperor of Havoc

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

I turn leisurely to see Ryu, Kolya’s top advisor, standing behind me. His posture is rigid, his glare hot enough to leave burn marks. He’s dressed impeccably, his black suit sharp enough to cut, but there’s nothing elegant about the anger radiating off him.

Ryu and my family have crossed paths before. The bullet wound in his gut is a lasting reminder of that encounter, though I doubt it’s a very happy one.

“Ryu-san,” I say smoothly, as if I’m genuinely pleased to see him. “We were just discussing the future.”

“The future?” Ryu repeats, his voice a low growl. He doesn’t look at Yamamoto. His anger is directed squarely at me. “You are not part of this family’s future. You are not part of this family at all, actually. You’re a fuckinggaijinoutsider.” His lips curl darkly. “You don’t belong here.”

Even if my face stays neutral, the word cuts. It always does.

Gaijin.Foreigner. Intruder. It’s a word I’ve heard since I was old enough to understand what I was. Half-Japanese, half-Norwegian. Too tall, too European, too different for some ofthe more old-school—and yes, I'll say it,racist—corners of the Yakuza world.

I smile at Ryu mildly, letting the insult slide over me.

“Let’s get one thing clear,” I say softly, stepping closer. The room feels smaller, hushed, like everyone is waiting for what comes next. “I’m marrying Kolya’s daughter. I’m not auditioning, or interviewing for a position. I’m about to become your fuckingboss.”

Ryu’s jaw tightens stonily.

I lean in, my voice low. “As such,youwill need to interview to keepyourcurrent position. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take it up with Kolya.” My brows knit as I swivel my head from side to side, darting my eyes around the room. “Now, whereishe…?”

The tension between Ryu and me crackles, the air humming with the threat of violence. I can see his muscles coil and his nostrils flare as he fights to keep himself in check.

But he knows he can’t touch me. Not here. Not tonight.

So he just straightens, his face a mask of dark rage. “You’re going to regret attempting whatever it is you’re trying to pull with this bullshit,” he mutters, his voice trembling with barely restrained anger. Then he turns sharply on his heel and storms away, his footsteps echoing through the room.

I watch him go with a satisfied smile.

Takeshi: one. Ryu: zero.

Your move, dickhead.

I turn to resume my admittedly blatant attempt to buy Yamamoto’s loyalty. But, probably wisely for him, he’s already backed away, clearly cooling to the idea as he disappears into the crowd.

Whatever. There are plenty more like him.

A sharp jab to my shoulder makes me flinch as I whirl. My jaw unclenches when I find not Ryu itching for a fight butKatarina, glaring up at me, her gray eyes blazing with fury.

It would be a whole lot more threatening if she didn’t look likeabsolute sinin that fucking gown.

Off-white, down to her ankles, thin shoulder straps, a plunging back. Her long, coppery-blonde hair is pinned up, though not particularly elaborately.

She’s good at cleaning up without looking like she’s playing princess. Katarina clearly understands the world she moves in, and how that world is especially unforgiving toward a woman alone in its midst.

My eyes travel the length of the delicate line of her neck, but there’s nothing delicate about the way she’s looking at me.

“You do not get to come in here and fuck with my family,” she signs furiously.

“Ourfamily, sweetheart,” I correct, letting my voice drop dangerously.

Her hands move sharply as she signs.Don’t.

I grin. “But we’re going to?—”

She cuts me off with a glare and stalks away before I can finish the thought.

She’s furious. I love it. That fire, that refusal to bow… Kolya might see a dutiful heir when he looks at her, but I see a spark. A challenge.

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