Page 91 of Emperor of Havoc

It’spain.

Frowning, I glance down, pulling aside my jacket before my heart drops.

Oh, fuck.

That’s…a lot of blood.

27

TAKESHI

The sharp linesof the Ishida house cut against the midnight sky. With Ryu on my heels, I push the heavy doors open with my shoulder, cradling Katarina to me.

Her head rests against my chest. Blood seeps through the makeshift bandage wrapped around her side, staining my shirt and reminding me of the chaos we narrowly escaped.

The moment we’re inside, people are rushing to us—guards, staff, Nina. I snarl before anyone can get too close.

“Back thefuckoff.”

They freeze, concern morphing into wary hesitation as my voice thunders through the grand hall. I don’t have the time or patience for their hovering or well-meaning incompetence today.

She’s mine to take care of.

“Takeshi, she’s hurt—” Nina starts, her voice tight.

“I know,” I growl, my voice gentler than it was a second ago but still not breaking my stride. My boots echo on the polished floors as I carry Katarina up the stairs. My head swivels to a totally confused Nina. “I’vegotit.”

Katarina lifts her head from my chest, raising a hand to sign “it’s okay” to Nina.

Then she turns her gaze to me and tries to sign something, but I shake my head.

“Later,” I mutter. “We’re almost there.”

In our bedroom,I kick the door shut behind us, stride into the en suite bathroom, and gently set her down on top of the vanity next to the sink. She grimaces, her coppery-blonde hair stuck to her temple where blood has dried in a thin line.

My chest tightens at the sight of her—the smallness, the fragility. Such a sharp contrast to the fiery confidence she usually wields. I hate it. I hate that someone hurt her.

I especially hate that it happened when I should have been protecting her.

I grab the first aid kit from under the sink. When I stand again, she’s turned to the mirror behind her, examining the cut on her forehead, her mouth a thin, determined line. I step in front of her, my hands steady as I open the kit.

“Don’t. Move,” I order firmly.

Her lips twitch, the ghost of a smirk breaking through her exhaustion. “Bossy,” she signs, her movements sluggish but clear. “I’m not dying. Just banged up.”

“Well, let’s get you unbanged.”

“That’s not a word.”

I fix her with a look. “Do I need to tie your hands?”

Katarina grins. Then her brow furrows when her gaze drops to my shirt.

“You’re in far worse shape than me,” she motions, her expression turning more serious. “Hang on—stop.”

She tries to push me away from where I'm dabbing at the blood on her temple, but I don’t budge. Finally, I end up grabbing her wrists and pinning them together.

“Stop. Moving,” I grunt.

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