8. Kenji

I wake up from passing out on top of Nia like a complete savage, and roll to my back, taking her with me. I can't hold back the stupid grin on my face. I just fucked my woman long, deep, and fucking good by the way she came all over my dick, cried out my name, and left the marks of her nails on my thighs and forearms. And I'm fucking ready to go again, like some fucking teenager. I shake my head and press a kiss to her temple. She snuggles deeper into my embrace, sighing in content. Fine, I'll let her sleep.

* * *

I'm abruptly pulled from sleep by loud noises and before even opening my eyes, I know something is wrong. Taking stock of my situation, I'm relieved to realize Nia is still peacefully sleeping in my arms. I give her a brief kiss, then detangle myself from our embrace, making sure to pull back the cover on her naked body.

Silently rummaging in the dark room, I pull my gun from the built-in holster of my suit jacket and tiptoe my way to the bedroom door, listening intently. There it is, heavy footsteps. Inside my place. Where no one is allowed without my express permission.

There are only two options. Whether my men have all been incapacitated, or… The bedroom door flies open, and he fucking steps in. My worst enemy. The man who I live to one day kill. The one who took my father's life in the most cowardly manner. My uncle. Seita Watanabe. The current head of our family.

His dark eyes, so similar to mine, stare at me through the semi-darkness. We look a lot alike. Same stature, close facial features resemblance. Only years tell us apart. At least on the outside. Because this man's soul is as fucking rotten as month-old roadkill.

"Uncle," I greet him in a measured tone. Keeping my voice at a regular volume, not giving him any indication that the woman in my bed is more precious to me than my next breath.

"Another gaijin bitch?" he sneers, his mouth hooking to one side in an infuriating smirk.

But I don't react. I have all the practice in the world with this piece of shit. I know him like the back of my hand. And we've been at this game a long, long time.

* * *

My mother raised me after Seita assassinated my father, his own older brother, to take his place as the head of the Yakuza in the U.S.

She made sure I knew the truth about my father's legacy and the true circumstances of his death. Found me the best trainers and teachers. And when I was old enough, she ensured I rebuilt my father's old alliances and readied myself for the day when I would rightfully reclaim my birthright as first-born son. I can't fucking wait till I can introduce my two badass favorite women in the world to each other.

But for now, looks like the time to deal with this fucker has finally come.

And it's so fucking weird, because for fucking years I've pictured the moment I'd kill him, savoring each second of the anticipation. My imagination running vivid and wild with details. Biding my fucking time. I've been ready for fucking years. All my chess pieces, in place. Allies made. Solid friends at my back. The DeLucas, the Maksimovs. Jack fucking Frost. The minute this asshole falls, all I'll have to do is dust off his throne and settle in. But that was the problem, right? After more than two decades spent honing my plan and setting everything in motion, I was almost paralyzed thinking about how empty my life would be after my unique goal was reached.

Fuck, you came stirring shit on the wrong fucking night, motherfucker. Just when I fucking find my girl, my purpose. I almost scoff. Almost. But my implacable mask is firmly in place.

"I had to stop by," he sneers. "Heard you found magic pussy. Fucking brought a bitch to your precious home?"

Yeah, that too. Never brought a girl in my house before Nia. I fuck outside or at their place. But this is not a fuck, and there's no way I'm letting this snake find that out. He will fucking try to hurt Nia if he has even the smallest inkling of what she means to me.

I take slow, measured breaths, keeping my heartbeat steady, my voice neutral.

"Just some chick I found at Maksimov's place," I respond, and each word fucking shreds my heart.

"Oh, really?"

"Maybe I should get dressed if you wanna have a conversation. Let me get the girl out."

I turn to my bed and gear up to do something that's gonna sully my soul worse than all the blood I have on my hands. Leaning over Nia, I shake her without ceremony.

"Hey, wake up," I say in a blank voice.

It takes a few seconds, but she finally opens her eyes. A huge grin instantly takes over her face and my heart fucking breaks.

She purrs, "hey, baby."

But I can't let that sink in, can't let her words, her smile, the fucking sight of her reach me. I gotta get her out of here, away from this psycho. And finally fucking take care of him.

"Time to go home, babe," I throw casually.

"W… what?" Her eyes widen, but the incredulity is quickly replaced with amusement. "Boy, stop playing. You exhausted my ass. I need to sleep." With that, she snuggles back under the covers. This shit would be funny in any other circumstances.

"Nia, you need to go home," I add firmly, pulling the covers off her body.

This time she yelps, sits up straight, eyes wide, hands covering her naked form. And I want to fucking die. Her eyes bounce around the room and she sees the other man standing with his back pressed to a wall, watching us with twisted curiosity.

"Ken, what the fuck-"

I interrupt her abruptly. "Get up, get dressed, go home." Gathering her things, I throw them at her. "Or wherever the fuck, but get out of here. I have business to take care of."

She stares at me for a couple of seconds, a single tear rolling down her face, then she wipes it furiously with the back of her hand.

"Fuck you, you sick liar!" she yells, before stomping out of my room, sending us both daggers on her way to the living room, where she proceeds to dress quickly before slamming the door behind herself, not sparing us even one last look. My fucking queen.

* * *

Now time to deal with this poor excuse for a human being. Because the sooner that's done, the faster I get my world settled, the faster I can go to Nia and fucking pray she hears me out.

I slowly turn to Seita, letting the mask fall. "You shouldn't have come here tonight."

"Yeah, yeah." He flicks his hand. "I know you think you can keep some privacy." He laughs mockingly. "But you forget your men are essentially my men."

I grit my teeth, my fist closing tightly as my eyes scan the walls around us and my collection of blades. I always knew this was their purpose. Never consciously admitted it to myself, but even then I knew.

What's funny is that people often assume I collect antiques. I would never take from any culture. Even uproot an object from its rightful home. I've traveled the world and I've had blades made for me wherever I went and studied. Swords, knives, machetes, daggers, sabers. I master them all, own them all.

My eye catches on the glinting metal of a spear. Iron and Baobab wood, from Mali. Perfect.

"And I thought you were getting dressed, nephew?"

I smirk. "No time for that, old man."

In two steps, I close the distance between us and reach on the wall over his head. Not giving him the time of fucking day, I position the blade over his heart and push. And as he gurgles, struggles, and stares at me with stupid, wide eyes. As blood and life drift out of him. It's as if my own chest was cracked open for all the anger, all the pain, all the fucking hurt of a little boy, the cold darkness of a grown man to seep out. As the light dies in his eyes, so does the deep, ugly thing that's been feeding off of me for so long. Revenge is no longer my beating heart.

I stand there for a long fucking time. Watching my uncle die. His limp body, crumple to the floor like a disarticulated puppet. Eyes wide open in shock, blood oozing from his wound, his mouth, his nose. I stare. Letting the image fill me. Strengthen me. Till it fucking sinks in. He's gone. The dark shadow that hung over my life for so long. The somber cloud that followed me fucking everywhere.

My eyes fall on my beautiful spear. It's ruined. Maybe I can travel with Nia to Mopti and get a new one made… My lips quirk on one side of my mouth. Maybe. The thought of being with her freely, completely, without the constant danger of this fucking psycho looming over us. It fucking overwhelms me. I feel the sting of tears burn the backs of my eyes. I take a deep inhale, joining my bloodied hands as I close my eyes and bow.

"Go in peace now, Papa."

Then I stride back to my room. Because that's all the fucking reprieve I can afford. My uncle was a snake. He had solid allies. Bonds not built on friendship, trust and mutual respect. But fear, threats, and blackmail. I've secured all the healthy connections I could safeguard from his network. But the others, the ones made from the same cloth as Seita Watanabe? Thos need to be dealt with and swiftly. That's the only way for me to secure some semblance of peace for my family -my mother, Nia, and myself.

I didn't have a grand speech for Seita. He fucking knew what he did, knew I would come for him, eventually. And now The Katana is ready to finish the job.

Just give me a little while longer, sweet girl. I'm coming back for you.