Emperor of Rage: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

I lean against the side of the house as the line of motorcycles roar down the driveway to the main gate. My jaw grinds as I watch the taillights of Freya’s bike, following Tak, Hana, and Annika as they head out for an evening joyride through the hills surrounding Kyoto.

I was out here when they suited up. When Hana asked if I was joining, I glanced at Freya, who was carefully ignoring me, and then turned back to tell my cousin, no, not this time.

It’s been like this since that night she came to my guesthouse. The night where I took off the reins and forgot about the brakes.

I won’t say she saw my full monster that night. No one sees that unless I’m about to kill them.

Slowly. Methodically.

But she got fucking close. Closer than anyone ever has before. And she didn’t just see the monster, either. She enjoyed it. She begged for it. She urged me on, wanting more of it.

I don’t need a psychiatric assessment to know that I am profoundly fucked in the head. Watching your family, your home, and your whole world get torn to shreds and burned alive as a child has a way of setting you down a not-so-normal path. Being ripped from those ashes and thrust into the claws of a Nazi psychopath hell bent on twisting you and others into his personal army of hate doesn’t exactly help, either.

Killing your grandfather in cold blood at the age of eleven probably seals the deal.

And that is the blackness inside me that Freya got a peek at the other night.

Then she ran, and she hasn’t come back or even looked at me since.

I’ve spent days wondering if I pushed it too far. If I went far past any games she wanted to play. If I showed her too big of glimpse of the monster inside of me.

She should have used her fucking safe word. The few times I’ve seen her since, I’ve wanted to grab her and shake and scream in her face, asking why she didn’t.

But we’re past that now, and in whatever dead zone this is.

I scowl as the four bikes peel away from the Mori estate. I’d say Freya barely looked at me when she walked out to join them, but she could well have been staring me in the face and I wouldn’t have known. Since they were going out before sundown, Hana helped her get kitted out in full riding gear almost like a racer would wear, covering her from chin to toe. She had a black-out helmet on, too.

But I’m sure she didn’t look at me. I’m fairly certain I’d have felt it if she had, even through the visor.

I’m about to head back inside when I hear the roar of an engine careening up the driveway. I turn to see Kenzo’s Porsche come flying up the hill before he screeches to a stop and springs out of the car.

Something’s wrong. Kenzo’s face is lined with anxiety, his eyes darting around the yard as if searching for something.

“What’s going on?” I growl, worry in my tone.

“Where is she?!” Kenzo snaps coldly.

“Who, Annika?” I frown, nodding past him in the direction he just came. “You just missed them.”

“What?”

A cold sensation creeps up my spine when I see the pure fear explode behind his eyes.

“She, Hana, Tak, and Freya just took off on bikes. They’re headed up the mountain road toward Sakamoto Castle—Kenzo!”

My cousin bolts back to his car, lunging behind the wheel and revving the engine to a roar. Before he can leave, I’m jumping into the passenger seat next to him.

Whatever the fuck is going on, my usually stoic, unshakable cousin looks scared to death about Annika.

And Annika is with Freya.

Kenzo whips around to shoot me a look. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Coming with you,” I growl.

“Buckle up.”

My back flattens against the seat as Kenzo roars down the driveway, past the guards at the front gate, and out onto the mountain road.

“What the fuck is going on, Kenzo?” I hiss as I do up my seat belt.

“Leka.”

My stomach drops at the name.

Leka as in Valon Leka, the Albanian psychopathic fucker that I know Freya and Annika once worked for.

Except Valon is dead. A week ago, that fuckhead Ulkan Gacaferi used Valon as bait to draw Kenzo and Tak to that house in the Kamigyo Ward where they were attacked. Tak got away…and Kenzo was kidnapped before Annika and I got him back in one piece…and now Valon is fucking dead. I saw the blood at the house, from Ulkan cutting him up. The police found his fucking body, for fuck’s sake.

“How?” I hiss, glancing at Kenzo.

He grits his teeth as we roar at breakneck speed around the twisting mountain roads toward Sakamoto Castle, the tourist spot where Freya, Annika, Tak, and Hana were headed.

“Chief Hajime was paid off,” he spits. “I just came from the precinct.” He sends me a terrified look. “They never found Leka’s body at all.”

“Fuck,” I snarl. “And he’s alive?!”

I clench my fists.

Valon is alive. Kenzo is worried Valon’s after Annika.

And Freya is with her.

My jaw tightens as Kenzo pushes the car faster, the forest around us blurring into streaks of green and black. My mind races, images of Freya flashing through my head—her smile, her laugh, the fire in her eyes. The way she pushes me, challenges me, makes me want things I’ve spent my life avoiding.

In this moment, the fear of losing her is all-consuming.

“Let’s just say he’s not confirmed dead,” Kenzo hisses, gripping the wheel a little tighter as he glances to me. “That’s enough for me to worry when my wife goes for a drive and doesn’t answer her⁠—”

“KENZO!”

I see the skid marks on the road first. Then the twisted, wrenched metal. Kenzo swears, spinning the wheel to the side and slamming on the brakes. I grit my teeth, gripping the handle of the door as the Porsche goes up on two wheels. The smell of burned rubber fills the air as he jerks the wheel back, getting us back onto four wheels before the car comes to a shuddering stop inches from the mangled pile of wrecked motorcycles.

Oh God…

For a moment, all I can see is fire. All I can smell is smoke as my home burns, mixed with the coppery scent of my family’s blood in the air and the taste of the garden hose in my mouth.

“ANNIKA!”

Kenzo’s roar rips me from the black hole of my past. I lurch out of the car, bolting over to where he’s crouched next to a mangled neon pink, purple, and black bike, the one Annika’s been riding since she got to Kyoto.

Fuck.

“Kenzo!”

Just as my panic soars into the stratosphere, I hear Takeshi’s voice behind us. We both whirl and I see my cousin limping out of the underbrush at the side of the road, bleeding from the shoulder. He’s got his arm around Hana, who’s clutching a hand to a bad cut on her forehead.

FUCK.

Kenzo and I bolt over to them, helping Tak lower Hana to the ground.

“They took her!” Hana blurts, her wide, terrified eyes lifting to Kenzo. “Kenzo, they took Annika!”

“Who did?!”

“Leka!” Takeshi grimaces. “Kenzo, that fucker is still alive, and he’s got Sota’s business manager Tengen with him.”

It’s not that I’m not worried about Annika. I am.

But there’s someone else filling my every thought as I whip my head around, my eyes darting everywhere, looking for a single trace of her.

Where the fuck is Freya.

My eyes dart back to the bike she was riding, lying mangled and half twisted around the guardrail.

“They side-swiped us with a van, took us all out, and then dragged Annika into it⁠—”

“Freya!”

The name rips from my throat, haggard and tense. Hana’s eyes whip to mine, worry etched across her face as she points at the guardrail that the bike is wrapped around.

“She went over!”

I don’t hear anything after that. My body moves on instinct, sprinting across the road, leaping over the guardrail, skidding down the embankment, crashing through branches and underbrush.

“Freya!” I shout, my voice hoarse, cracking with fear. “Freya! Answer me!”

No response. No movement. Just suffocating silence.

I run faster, tearing through the trees, ripping through the underbrush, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I can’t think, can’t process anything except the need to find her. My eyes dart around wildly, searching for any sign that tells me she’s alive.

Then I see it.

The other half of her bike, twisted and mangled, resting against a tree. And just a few feet away, slumped beneath the shadows of the branches, I see her.

“Freya.”

I breathe her name as I rush toward her. My knees hit the dirt as I drop beside her, my hands shaking as I touch her face. She’s pale, her body curled in on itself as if trying to shield herself from the world.

Her helmet lies cracked open a few feet away. The backs of her hands are red and blistered from the sun where she’s clinging to her ripped jacket, trying to keep it wrapped around her. But she’s moving.

Her eyes flutter open, and when she sees me, a weak smile tugs at her lips. “Mal…”

I exhale, my chest tightening with relief. She’s alive.

Without thinking, I pull off my jacket and throw it over her, shielding her from the sunlight filtering through the trees. I pull her into my arms, cradling her against my chest. “I’m here,” I whisper, my voice rough with emotion. “I’ve got you.”

Freya’s fingers clutch at my shirt, her body trembling as she leans into me. Her breath is warm against my neck, weak, but steady. “I thought… I thought I was going to⁠—”

“No,” I growl, cutting her off. My grip tightens around her, fierce and protective. “You’re not going anywhere. You can’t.”

I hold her close, my mind already thinking about getting her back to safety and making sure she’s okay. I press my lips to her temple, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “I’m never letting you go.”

With Freya in my arms, I climb back up the embankment, my body running on pure adrenaline. When we reach the top, Kenzo is on his phone, barking orders for backup and medical help. None of it registers.

All I can focus on is her.

Freya is still cradled in my arms, underneath my jacket. Her breathing is shallow, but she’s alive, and that’s all that matters.

My fear hasn’t faded, though. If anything, it’s intensified. The idea of her being taken from me, of her getting hurt again—it terrifies and claws at me in ways I can’t even articulate.

I look down at her, my emotions crashing over me like a tidal wave. I’ve been fighting this—fighting her—for so long. Telling myself that she was the blood of the enemy, that I hated her for that. But it’s all a lie.

I care about this woman more than I’ve cared about anyone or anything in a long, long time.

And it scares the fuck out of me.