Genesis staggered, and Kieran caught her, his hands wrapping firmly around her waist, their chests pressing together. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. His eyes glittered with amusement, and he looked so composed—while she was anything but. Her neck was marked with hickeys, her cheeks flushed red and flustered, and her hair was a mess from him running his hands through it.
Her legs wobbled like jelly, from being tossed over his shoulder or wrapped around his waist, she wasn't sure which.
She frowned up at him, pouting. Why did he look so calm and untouched? Meanwhile, she looked like a wild raccoon had attacked her.
"Stop pouting. You're going to make me want to fuck you again..." His words barely left his mouth before she pulled away from his arms.
Kieran chuckled. "Come on, princess, I'm not going again."
She shook her head and stepped back, but before she could move far, he was right in front of her, a hand sliding around her neck. He stared at the marks there, took a slow breath as his fingers gently caressed her skin.
Her frown deepened at the look in his eyes—it sent a shiver down her spine.
He withdrew his hand and looked her over, adjusting her leotard and the wrap-around skirt.
"Don't worry. No one will suspect a thing."
Liar.
She nodded, and he placed a hand on the small of her back as they stepped out of the restroom. The hallway was empty.
Genesis exhaled in relief—no one was coming, and the boys' bathroom door remained closed.
They soon emerged into the beginner's ballet class.
As they entered, Genesis felt a pang of guilt. The class had already started. She moved to pull away from Kieran's side, but his hand stayed firmly at her waist.
She looked up at him questioningly. He was already watching her.
"Are you sure, baby? I don't want you to be stressed, you could stop now, just for today."
She stared at him for a moment, then crossed her arms over her chest, pouting. He was worried about her—after everything, when he was the one pushing her nonstop.
Kieran didn't wait for her to write down what she was feeling in her notebook or sign; he just chuckled.
"Okay, okay. Go ahead—I won't stop you."
He released her, and she moved toward the others. But before she could get far, he yanked her back to face him. Her hand landed on his chest to steady herself.
"Just give me a kiss. I'll miss you."
She looked up at him, wanting to—usually she would have kissed him without hesitation, always eager to please. But now, she knew she could say no. And he wouldn't lash out. In fact, she'd done much more than say no before.
So she shook her head, a rosy tint blooming on her cheeks, and pulled away from his arms. She turned and walked toward the others. There was one thing she still hadn't gotten rid of: she never ran. Years of being told no running had left its mark. Even now, she never did.
Kieran watched her move away. She didn't sway her hips or saunter seductively, but he couldn't help staring at the subtle way her waist curved, the soft line of her hips, the pert ass he longed to hold, caress, and maybe even spank.
He felt his cock jerk in his pants and quickly turned around—there were kids here.
He glanced down at his slowly hardening member. "Shit. Get a grip."
He moved to the other side of the class, willing his dick to soften. How could he be so ready to go again after just pounding her a few minutes ago like a madman—and now, here he was, rock hard once more.
It was clear to Kieran that he was losing his mind, probably turning into a nymphomaniac thanks to his wife—but honestly, he didn't care.
He leaned against the wall, watching the class practice, but his eyes stayed fixed on her. When she split her legs, the crazy thought that hit his mind matched his wild state. She was so flexible. He found himself imagining all the ways he could use that in bed.
He pictured slamming into her as they stood in the middle of the room—her left leg raised high, wrapped around him, curved to his neck…
And that only made his condition worse.
"Dammit."
At that moment, a notification popped up on his phone. He shoved his hand into his pocket, pulled it out, and checked the message.
It was from Alex.
"You're right. Takeshi is really back in the States."
Kieran's expression changed instantly, like someone else had taken over. His teeth clenched hard. Then the next message hit like gasoline on a fire.
"And he was seen entering the Caldwell Estate. Looks like he's got business with them."
That definitely wasn't what Knight had expected. This wasn't going to be good.
****
Inside the Caldwell Estate, Takeshi Kuroda sat rigidly on the couch. Monica smiled awkwardly. No matter how relieved she was about this new ally, he was also dangerously powerful. She never imagined she'd end up working with the Mafia. Sure, she'd dealt with local gangs before—but the Yakuza? The most powerful crime family in Japan? Never.
"So I'm just curious," Mark said casually, reclining on the cream-colored couch, arms crossed. "What did Knight do to you? You never really told us—just showed up saying you wanted to help bring that douchebag down…"
His mother shot him a sharp side-eye. "Would you shut up?" she snapped, then turned back to Takeshi.
Takeshi's face was stone-cold, unreadable, and the suited men standing behind him looked just as unblinking, almost like statues.
"Don't mind him, he's just—" Monica began, but Takeshi cut her off.
Takeshi lifted a hand, silencing her gently but firmly. His words were quiet, rough around the edges with an accent thick as his presence.
"No… is fine. I speak. I say… What happen"
Takeshi leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. His voice came out low, the kind of calm that made the room feel colder.
"Long time ago… Knight. He small. Little street boy. Small gang, small name. Nothing."
He raised two fingers, pinching the air slightly. "So small."
Monica and Mark stayed quiet.
"But… he fast. Smart. Good with moving things. Illegal things." He gave a brief, dismissive wave. "Guns, organs, art, Diamonds, gold, poison… he move well. I trust."
He looked up. "I show him around. Introduce. Family. Powerful ones. In Japan… in China… even Russia."
He straightened slowly. "I make him grow. I give him name."
Takeshi's jaw tightened slightly. His next words came out even slower, more deliberate.
"One rug. Beautiful. Rare. From forbidden animal. White Bengal Tiger."
He paused. "Illegal. Very illegal. Protected for hundred year. Only one left. I want it. For… soosa-chan."
Monica blinked. "Sōsā…?"
Takeshi's face softened just for a second.
"My sōsā-chan." He placed a hand to his chest. "Grandmother. I bury her with honor."
His hand slowly curled into a fist. "Knight bring… rug. I do not check. I trust."
He stared down for a second, jaw clenched.
"At funeral… priest open box. Not tiger skin. Not even cat. Was… skunk. Skunk… butt."
Mark let out a short laugh. "What?!"
"I bury my sōsā-chan with skunk ass!"
Mark snorted. "Bro what, okay, that's just messed up…"
Thwack!
Monica slapped his arm hard. "Shut your mouth, Mark!"
Takeshi didn't move—he just snapped his fingers.
One of the suited men stepped forward. Mark flinched back instinctively, half-raising his arms, but the man only pulled a phone from his pocket, walked forward, and handed it to Takeshi.
Without a word, Takeshi tapped the screen, turned it, and showed them the image.
It was a body. A man, headless, laid across polished tiles. The body was young. Slender. Freshly killed. There was blood everywhere.
Mark sat up straight, mouth open. Monica's hand flew to her lips.
Takeshi's voice dropped even lower.
"My nephew. Eiji."
He didn't blink.
"Knight send me this. Body. Then, next day… box. With head."
A pause.
"Say… Eiji try kill him. So he kill first."
Takeshi looked at them both now, gaze sharp as glass.
"First rug. Then family. I want Knight dead. But he vanish. Leave Japan. Go underground."
He leaned back, folding his arms.
"But now… I come for him."
Takeshi's voice was low, his accent thick, but his meaning crystal clear.
"I come to finish what he start."
"I start with his wife."
And he smiled.
But it was the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes—cold, empty, and deadly. It promised retribution, a storm brewing beneath calm waters, warning that nothing and no one would be spared.
Mark's eyes hardened with determination. "Good. Knight deserves everything coming to him. If you want to finish him and that wench, I'm with him all the way."
Monica nodded slowly, a fierce edge to her voice. "We stand behind you, Takeshi. No one crosses the family and gets away with it,"