Emperor of Havoc: A Dark Forced Marriage Mafia Romance

The basement of the Mori compound smells like oil and blood. The oil is from the select cars and handful of bikes I moved here from Kyoto when Kenzo went ahead and pulled the trigger on this place.

The blood?

That’s from a more immediate and present source.

Higashi groans where he’s tied to the chair, blood dripping down his face and pooling beneath him like he’s a broken spigot. It’s poetic, really, the way his body slouches, the gasps of pain escaping his lips.

He looks fucking pathetic. Like a worm. No, less than a worm.

A fucking snitch.

Beneath the bruises and blood, his expression alternates between defiance and terror as I loom over him.

“I’m curious, Higashi,” I growl quietly. “How the fuck did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

Higashi bleats in terror, like a farm animal about to be slaughtered.

“You really thought you could sell out your own brotherhood, to an active enemy no less, and get away with it?” I murmur, crouching down to his level. The steel-toed boot of my left foot rests against his knee, applying just enough pressure to make him wince. He’s shaking now, the sputtering sound of his breath reminding me of an engine that’s about to die.

“I didn’t—’ Higashi chokes, his voice a watery mess of snot and pleading. “Please…Takeshi-sama…”

I smile, slow and deliberate. It’s the kind of smile that makes men wet themselves.

No, really. I’ve seen it happen.

“Didn’t what?” I whisper. “Didn’t sell out your boss? Didn’t betray your family to a woman? What was it, Higashi? Did she send you a dirty picture of herself? Did you have a little crush? Or was it just for the money? And don’t fucking lie to me, Higashi. I know every word you said, every move you made.” I press down harder with my boot until he cries out, his screams echoing around the basement like music.

Higashi is garbage. Not just because I know he’s a fucking sellout now. He was garbage before Katarina paid him a tidy sum of money for insider information about our organization.

Because before Higashi discovered his new favorite pastime of pocketing bribes and selling out his brothers, he had a nifty little hobby of beating the shit out of women.

Girlfriends, the woman who lived down the hall from him, girls working at hostess bars. He hid this, of course—I mean it’s not like I knew and decided to just let it be.

Fuck that.

But after I discovered that Katarina knew how to get into our initiation the other night—where to be and when, how to dress to blend in—because of Higashi and his big fat mouth, I dug up every fucking skeleton in his closet.

Yes: garbage. The world’s better off without him, and he knows it.

I know it, too, which is why he’s leaving here tonight in a body bag.

I tap the bloodied wrench against my palm thoughtfully and stand up, rolling my shoulders. Higashi whimpers, the sound fading into the distant hum of my thoughts as my mind wanders.

I turn to survey the garage I’ve been setting up down here, now that the Mori-kai is establishing a more permanent, powerful presence here in Tokyo.

Motorcycles. Engines. Building something powerful with my bare hands brings me satisfaction—the pure, raw thrill of creating something that hums with power and is under your control. That’s what it feels like when an engine roars to life. When a plan comes together.

Katarina Ishida. My little prey.

My plan.

The thought of her sends a rush of raw heat through me, dark and all-consuming. I picture her face—the heart-shaped mouth, the prominent cheekbones. The gray eyes, wide and startled, her lips, parted in shock when I pinned her to her bed the other night.

She’s beautiful in a way that’s dangerous, in a way that makes men do stupid things. I know better than to be so stupid, but still…

There’s something about her that keeps crawling under my skin, scratching and demanding more.

“Takeshi.”

Hana’s voice slices through the basement like a blade, and I glance over my shoulder to see her standing at the bottom of the stairs. Her bleached-blonde hair hangs in twin braids over her shoulders, her expression calm despite the grisly scene before her.

My sister has seen worse. Hell, she’s helped me clean up worse.

“You’re making a mess,” she says, folding her arms over her chest.

I shrug, glancing at Higashi. “I thought it was time to break the new place in.”

Hana shoots me a look. “Tak.”

I exhale slowly. “I’m in control, all right? This is…necessary.”

“For what he did, or for you?” she murmurs quietly.

“Little of column A, little of column B?”

My twin frowns. “Tak, come on⁠—”

“I’m kidding, Hana.”

Sort of. Mostly.

“It’s because of him slipping secrets to the fucking enemy. If that isn’t enough for you, feel free to boot up the laptop over there and read all about his hobby of re-tooling girls’ faces with his fists.”

Hana’s eyes darken. Her gaze slips past me, zeroing in on Higashi.

“That true, motherfucker?” she says coldly.

I chuckle. Hana never disappoints. She can be the tether that keeps me from slipping entirely over the cliff into the darkness. But she can also bring the fucking fury when it needs to be brought.

Higashi sobs, spit and blood dribbling down his chin as he trembles against his bonds.

Hana walks past me, stopping to look down at Higashi. Her lip curls in disgust. “Coward,” she spits before turning back to me. “What do we know about the infiltration?”

I tilt my head at Higashi. “I got everything I need from him.”

“Yeah, but who was the spy?”

“Just…one of their guys,” I lie, not understanding why. “I handled it, Hana.”

Oh, and handle it—or her, rather—I did.

“Was it a direct order from Kolya, though? Because if it was, that’s totally different from just one of their people trying to scope out our new compound.”

There’s a zero percent chance that Kolya knows his daughter snuck into our initiation the other night.

ZEE. ROW.

Kolya has spent the last thirteen years hiding his darling daughter away from the world and erasing any mention of her from before that. It’s so extreme that if you ask around the various underworld circles of Tokyo, people aren’t even really sure if he ever had a daughter at all. Or maybe he did, but she’s dead now. Or maybe not.

Hell, I wasn’t even sure what to believe myself, until I started the machinations that brought us here, and to tonight’s earlier events.

AKA, my indecent proposal to marry Katarina Ishida.

Which—shit—I haven’t actually found the time yet to mention to my family.

I pull my attention back to Hana. “Was there something you needed, by the way?”

“Aside from making sure you weren’t…you know…” She peers at me.

“Sliding into American Psycho territory?”

“Your words,” she mutters.

“I’m not.”

Not at this exact moment, at least. Nor today…probably.

“Glad we’ve cleared that up,” she smirks.

Ugh, she’s smiling a lot these days. I blame her fiancé Damian, AKA the nephew of Kir Nikolayev, the Mori-kai’s Bratva ally. Though I will begrudgingly admit that despite taking away my twin sister’s sullenness that I used to delight in, he does make her happy.

Like, really, really fucking happy.

“Oh, there’s something else,” Hana says, raising a brow to me. “Kenzo wants to talk to you.”

“When?”

“…Now?”

I glance at the burbling, sobbing Higashi. Then I turn back to my sister.

“I’ll finish up here,” I say easily, as if I’m ending a work call instead of carrying out an execution. “Tell Caesar that I’ll see him after I clean up.”

She nods, glancing past me again to frown at Higashi. “Tak.”

“Yeah?”

“Just… Get it done, okay? No…you know.”

My lips curl. “Trophies?”

She sighs, shaking her head. “See you upstairs.”

She leaves without another word, her footsteps light as she heads back up the stairs.

For a second, I ignore the sniveling man behind me and let my gaze drag across the garage I’ve built down here: the cars, the bikes.

I grin.

Akira would have fucking loved this place.

Higashi looks up at me as I turn back to him, desperation on his ruined face. I crouch again, close enough that he can hear me, even through my voice is quiet.

“I mean, I was going to take an ear. Or, you know…something.” I exhale through my lips. “But, you can thank my sister for ruining that one. Anyway, this is where it ends for you,” I tell him. “You believe in reincarnation?”

“W-what?!” Higashi sobs.

“Do you believe you will be reborn again after death.”

“I-I…I don’t know!” Higashi wails.

“Well, if you figure it out in the next, oh, seven seconds, and decide it’s a yes?”

I stand and raise my arm.

“Don’t fuck up next time.”

The wrench connects with a sickening crunch, and the basement walls swallow his final scream.

I shower in scalding water afterward. The blood, the grime, it all slides down the drain, swirling into nothingness. By the time I change into clean clothes and head upstairs, the Mori compound feels quiet, almost peaceful.

We’ve only been in the house for a month, but it already feels like home: a fortress hidden in the city’s heart. The mansion itself is a marvel of modern architecture, sharp lines of steel and glass that reflect Tokyo’s neon skyline. The basement is a different story, but that’s intentional.

I walk through the main hall, my footsteps muffled by the thick Persian rugs Kenzo insisted on. My brother’s got a taste for luxury. I don’t mind it. I’ll admit, there’s something satisfying about walking through a house that screams power and control.

“Hey, you wanted to see…”

I trail off as I step into Kenzo’s office and see all my siblings there. Kenzo is standing by the windows, his jaw tight and a glass of whiskey in his hand. Annika, his wife, sits at his desk nearby. When I step in, she glances at me, then to Kenzo, then back at me.

Okaaaay?

Mal, our cousin, sits at one side of the room, with Freya on his knee. Damian’s back in New York on business for his uncle this week so Hana sits alone, her warmth from earlier gone, replaced by something cold and maybe a little worried.

Shit. What’d I fucking miss?

I don’t have to wait long for the big reveal. Kenzo knocks his head back, downing the rest of his drink before slamming his glass down. He whirls on me, his expression sharp, his face livid.

“Are you fucking high?” he snaps. “What were you thinking?!”

Aha. It would appear word has reached the rest of them about what I pulled earlier tonight. Obviously, I’d rather have told them myself. But here we are. And judging from their faces, this toothpaste won’t exactly go back into the tube.

“We had plans, Tak!” Kenzo spits. “Learn Kolya’s ways. Cultivate contacts within his organizations. Map out their operations. Find the weak spots. You told me you’d found a way inside. You didn’t tell me it was fucking this!”

I smirk, dropping into the leather armchair across from him. “First of all, chill. Secondly, am I missing something?” I arch a brow at my brother. “I just stormed Normandy, defeated the Spanish Armada and sacked Rome, all without lifting a finger or firing a shot. You’re fucking welcome, by the way.”

Kenzo’s hand tightens around his glass. “What you just did, Tak, is grabbed the fucking tiger by the tail. You better learn to hold on tight or to run like hell.”

“Come on,” I reply, stretching my arms out lazily. “Marrying Katarina ends the war. Full stop. Kolya doesn’t have a choice, believe me. All that research? The planning?” I roll my eyes. “Kenzo, I outplayed him. Period.”

Kenzo’s glare is murderous. “You didn’t outplay anyone. You’re forgetting Kolya Ishida is the most ruthless bastard in Tokyo. You think you’re so clever, but all you’ve done is paint a target on your back—and hers, I should add, if you even give a shit.”

My chest twists sharply at that. But I shove the feeling down and lean forward, my smirk fading.

“I’m not afraid of Kolya,” I say coldly. “Or of his men. They think I’m insane, and they’re right. That’s why I’ll win.”

“Tak…”

Hana is looking at me, her brow furrowed. “Why does it feel like you’re making this more personal that it needs to be?”

I scowl. “What?”

“You’re making this personal. I can see it in your fucking eyes.”

I don’t answer. Because she’s right.

This isn’t just about Katarina. Or even Kolya.

It’s about Akira.

It’s taken me a long time to follow the trail. I’ve waited for years for this—for a chance to rip apart the man who killed my friend. Now, I have a name.

Kolya. Fucking. Ishida.

My…fascination with Katarina is no accident. She’s his blood, his pride, his perfect little heir. I want to see how badly she’ll break before he does too. How far I’ll have to push before Kolya Ishida falls to his knees and begs.

Kenzo sighs heavily. “How…set in stone is this?”

“When you barge into a guy’s dinner party, insult his guests, drop a beer cooler full of his dismembered enemy on the table, and ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage, and he says yes?” I spread my arms. “I don’t know, Kenzo. How likely is a do-over in that scenario?”

He shakes his head, shoving his fingers through his hair. “You made this bed⁠—”

“Which I fully intend to sleep in. Will you chill out?”

“Fine,” he mutters. “Marry the daughter of the man we’re in a Cold War with. Just don’t come crying to me when she guts you in your sleep.”

The thought of Katarina holding a knife to my throat sparks something wicked in my chest. “I’d like to see her try,” I grin.

Kenzo mutters something in Japanese, but I can’t really hear him. I lean back in my chair as the rest of them start talking tensely about “what I’ve done”.

Me, I let my thoughts drift. To earlier today. To a few nights before.

To Katarina, and the hunger for her throbbing inside me.

My future wife…

Soon, I’ll know the truth about what happened to Akira. When I do, I’ll rub Kolya’s fucking face in it.

…After I decapitate him, that is.

One step at a time. One move closer to victory.

The engine’s already running. There’s no stopping it now.