Emperor of Wrath: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

I’ve known blinding anger before in my life. When my mother died, the fury I felt toward the world, karma, God, and whoever was unlucky enough to cross my path almost killed me.

But it didn’t touch what I’m feeling right now.

It’s not some macho chest-thumping ego thing, either. This isn’t anger that Leka “got what’s mine” or anything juvenile like that.

Annika and I are both adults in our thirties. We’ve both obviously had lives before we met each other. Again, that’s not what this is, and it’s not my fucking ego.

It’s that against my better judgement, and despite every attempt to sabotage it, somewhere along the way, I caught feelings.

No. More than feelings.

Somewhere along the way, this “fake” thing with Annika has become very, very real. I’m not sure if I have a word for it yet, or maybe I know the word just fine but the fact that I’ve never used that word before scares the fuck out of me.

She matters to me.

A fucking lot.

She’s an addition to the thing beating inside my chest that I wasn’t looking for, because I never knew that part of my heart was missing.

As much as she pisses me off sometimes, damned if that woman isn’t the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last thing I think of before I fall asleep.

That’s why I’m beyond fucking angry. It has nothing to do with her past experiences before me.

It’s about him.

Valon.

And the fact that that piece of shit hurt her.

Abused her.

Gaslit and groomed her. Used her desperation and her pain of losing her whole family to get what he wanted, and to hell with her opinion on the matter.

He hurt my fucking wife.

Tonight, he’s going to die for it.

I grab a helmet off the wall and snag the keys to my all-black BMW bike with the thin, silver etching of a screaming hannya mask on the gas tank. I have a small arsenal in a storage locker under the house, but Japan’s strict firearms laws make it very hard to go into a place shooting without the goddamn army coming down on your head.

Instead, I go to a locker against the far wall, key in the passcode, and pull out an exquisitely crafted, old-school samurai sword.

This was my grandfather’s—given to Sota by my father when he was leaving Japan.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

Now it’s mine.

I want to use this far more than any crude gun, anyhow. I slide it into a scabbard slung across my back as I throw a leg over the bike.

“Off to commit violence, brother?”

I pause, turning to look at Takeshi as he walks into the garage. His lips curl dangerously.

“You know that’s my favorite hobby,” he growls menacingly.

I shake my head. “This is just me, Tak.”

“What’s this about, Kenzo?” When I don’t reply, his brow furrows deeply. “Annika?”

I’m frozen for a second. Then I dip my chin curtly.

Takeshi’s jaw grinds.

“In case you’ve forgotten, brother, your wife is my sister.”

Without saying anything more, he grabs his helmet and keys, then pulls a second, non-heirloom sword out of the locker.

Honestly, if Takeshi had his way, he’d always use swords.

“Who are we raining mayhem and pain down on?” he grunts as he gets astride his bike.

“We’re not fucking anyone up tonight,” I hiss. “We’re burying them.”

“Excellent,” he smiles, pulling on his helmet. “Let’s go.”

It’s quiet out when Tak and I roll to a stop a few blocks away from the vast home Valon is renting in the luxurious Kamigyo Ward. We leave our helmets with the bikes and move in silence, two noiseless, shadowy angels of death.

Common sense would say to call for backup and wait until I have a small army of men at my disposal before surrounding the house, and only then going in to drag Valon out by the balls.

But fuck that.

The wrathful monster inside me isn’t waiting for anything right now.

Tak and I keep to the shadows as we slip along the wall surrounding Valon’s rental property. Avoiding the front gates, we keep going until we find an old, gnarled tree which gives access.

Seconds later, we’ve climbed the tree and dropping down into the darkness inside the walls. I allow myself a dangerous smile as I slowly unsheathe the lethal blade at my back. Takeshi does the same and we move in silence toward the back door, ready to strike down anyone who gets in our way.

No one does. And that’s…odd.

When we get to the back door, Takeshi taps me on the shoulder. I turn to see him frowning deeply. He gestures with his chin to where he’s looking. When I follow his gaze, my eyes widen.

It’s almost unnoticeable, but there’s a small splatter of red against the white stones of the Zen garden beside the back door.

I glance back at my brother. He nods.

The hunt is still on.

The back door opens noiselessly. We creep in on silent feet, blades ready, eyes scanning the darkness inside. We move through a sitting room and into a lounge area that looks out over the city.

We both freeze as our eyes drop to the same thing—more blood, splattered across the wall and one of the white sofas.

I glance at my brother again. He frowns, as if to say “something is fucked.” He’s not wrong. I’m also not leaving here without Valon’s fucking head.

We push on.

In the kitchen, the refrigerator door is ajar, a bullet hole in the side of it and more blood dripping down the wall next to it. Bloody footsteps lead to a dining area, but they end there without a body.

Just as I’m about to admit that there’s no one still here, we both freeze when we hear a quiet groan of pain. Takeshi and I move quickly, sweeping through the house until we step outside.

A man lies curled up in the fetal position in the middle of the dark, moonlit inner courtyard. Blood pools around him as he groans in pain.

God damn.

It’s fucking Valon.

Takeshi and I run over. The piece of shit cries out pathetically as I yank him over, turning him face up and leering down into his stricken face.

“Good,” I growl quietly. “You survived. Now it’s my turn⁠—”

I whirl at the grunt of pain next to me, just in time to see Takeshi slump to the ground. Then blinding pain explodes in the back of my skull. Gravity goes sideways as I tumble to the ground next to him, my vision swimming before it all goes dark.

“Do you hunt, Mr. Mori?”

I blink back into reality. Someone is tying my hands behind my back against one of the porch pillars.

Takeshi—

I snap my head left and right, looking for my brother, almost expecting to see him being tied up too. When I don’t see him at all, my fury surges. I hiss violently, yanking at the ropes behind my back trying to break free. But they hold fast, and I grunt when the man behind me kicks me swiftly in the ribs.

A dark, rasping chuckle rumbles beside me. I turn and narrow my eyes at a stocky, bearded man with dark eyes and a shaved head as he steps into my field of vision.

“Where the fuck is my brother?” I spit.

He raises a brow and glances significantly at the spot where Tak and I just got jumped. My skin crawls as I realize the blood I’m looking at isn’t just from Valon.

“Where the fuck⁠—”

“He’ll be found soon, don’t you worry, Mr. Mori,” he growls quietly. “Either by my men or, judging from his wounds, by death.”

Tak got away.

I level a vicious glare at the man. “Who the fuck are you?”

He smiles coolly at me, turning my sword in his hands.

“My name is Gacaferi, Mr. Mori. Ulkan Gacaferi.”

The name makes me pause, my brain searching the memory banks for how I know this fuck. Then it hits me: Ulkan’s a mid-level Albanian strongman who runs a B-list crime outfit. He also lives in New York, so why the fuck is he standing over me in Kyoto?

“What the fuck is this,” I snap coldly at him, pulling at my binds. I nod my chin at Valon as he lies bleeding and moaning on the ground. “If you’re here for him, we’re on the same side. But he’s mine,” I snarl.

Ulkan smiles, examining my sword again and running his thumb up the side of the blade.

“Put that down,” I growl quietly.

His eyes lift to mine. “I’ll ask you again, Mr. Mori. Do you hunt?”

It starts to filter into my consciousness that Ulkan is known to be a complete psychopath.

“I do,” I growl.

“Have you ever gone trapping?”

“Bunnies,” I hiss. “I’ve trapped bunnies.”

His smile grows as he circles me slowly, thumbing the edge of my blade.

“Ahh yes, rabbits. You must bait a cage for rabbits, yes?”

“What the fuck do you want, Mr. Gacaferi?”

His head swivels to me, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “I want what I’m owed, Mr. Mori. Our honor is the one thing we have in this world, no? And to lose it, or have it taken from you, is a terrible thing. I think men like you and I can agree on that.”

“I don’t even fucking know you,” I snarl. “What the fuck do you think I took⁠—”

“Ahh, I apologize. You misunderstand, Mr. Mori,” Ulkan sighs, hefting my sword in his hand as he slowly walks over to where Valon is lying on the ground. He gestures to the fucker lying in his own blood, pointing at him with my sword.

“That isn’t my bait, Mr. Mori. Because it is not you I am hunting.”

He twirls the blade thoughtfully as he turns. His eyes land on me as he slowly walks toward me, smiling cruelly.

“No, you are my bait, Mr. Mori.”

My jaw clenches as I glare up into his face. “And what the fuck are you hunting?”

He leers at me as he squats down in front of me, running his thumb up the side of my sword, looking me dead in the eye.

“Your wife, Mr. Mori. I’m hunting your wife.”