KNIGHT
「ただ話がしたいだけだ,旧友よ.それの何がいけない?」
("I just want to talk, old friend. Is there something wrong with that?") Knight said with a smile, head tilted as he glanced at the wall. Fang held the phone steady for him.
「お前に言うことは何もない,ナイト.言葉を交わす時間は終わった.俺はお前の首と…お前の女の首を取りに来た.」
("I have nothing to say to you, Knight. The time for words is over. I'm here for your head—and your wife's," )Takeshi spat in rapid-fire Japanese.
Knight didn't flinch. He just kept smiling.
The knife he'd been spinning in his hand suddenly flew—burying itself deep in the chest of the man kneeling a few feet away. The blade joined several others already embedded there. Blood poured from his wounds. He was barely hanging on to life.
The man let out a scream that echoed through the hallway.
Knight's smile darkened.
He knew Takeshi heard that scream. And he knew Takeshi would recognize the voice. It was one of his own men.
Knight leaned closer to the phone Fang held. His tone remained calm, but his eyes were blazing with violence.
「俺の倉庫を燃やしたのは構わない.」
I don't care that you burned down my warehouse.
He crouched beside the dying man and ripped one of the daggers from his chest. The man screamed—raw, high-pitched, agony in every note.
Knight grinned.
「だが,俺の女に手を出すと...話は別だ.」
But lay a hand on my woman… and that's a different story.
Silence.
Then Takeshi's voice crackled through the line, sharp and cold.
「彼女を殺す.お前が俺の甥を殺したように.」
I'll kill her. Just like you killed my nephew.
Knight stood, slowly wiping the blood from his blade on the man's shirt.
「お前の人生で最後に見る光景は,俺の影になる.」
The last thing you'll see in this life will be my shadow.
The air turned still, electric.
Takeshi gave a humorless laugh.
「怖がらせるつもりか?もう遅い.」
Trying to scare me? It's too late for that.
Knight didn't blink.
「脅してるんじゃない.約束してるんだ.」
Not a threat. A promise.
He gave a short nod.
Fang ended the call and crushed the burner beneath his boot.
Only the dying man's gurgles remained.
Knight stared at him like he was already a corpse.
Then he turned to Fang.
"Kill him."
"Yes, boss."
Knight walked off, dragging a bloodied hand through his hair. His fingers left red streaks in the mess. He lit a cigarette.
Then paused.
Her smile flashed in his mind—soft, quiet, real.
His jaw clenched tight.
He needed to hold her. Breathe her in. See her face.
He was spiraling. Normally, blood calmed the storm inside him, but not tonight. Tonight, he needed her—his wife, his peace, his sanity.
He inhaled deeply, but it wasn't helping.
With a growl, he slammed his fist into the wall. Again. And again. Cracks formed, plaster crumbled, blood smeared and splattered as his knuckles split open.
He couldn't go to her like this. Not with the bruise on his face from the underground fight. And now this—his mangled hand.
"Viper. Chameleon," he growled, chest heaving.
The two men stepped forward. "Yes, boss."
"Set me another fight in the arena."
His eyes stayed locked on the blood dripping from his hand. The men followed his gaze.
Chameleon stepped forward hesitantly. "Okay, boss. But... look at this."
He pulled a tablet from behind his back and tapped it on. Knight turned—and froze.
The moment his eyes landed on the screen, he snatched the tablet like a junkie finding his fix.
He tapped again.
It was her.
A live camera feed from the estate courtyard lit up the screen.
He frowned. It was late. Why was she outside?
She stood in front of the large gate, eyes darting around like she was waiting for something… or someone.
Beside her, Daisy looked seconds away from collapsing into sleep.
Knight's breath caught.
Was she waiting for him?
She was wearing one of his black shirts—too big on her, the sleeves nearly swallowing her hands. Her hair was tied up messily, like she'd rushed outside. She kept glancing toward the gates, checking her phone every few seconds, then tucking it back into her lap.
Waiting.
For him.
"Boss," Chameleon said softly. "She's been out there for almost an hour."
Knight's throat tightened. His grip on the tablet turned white-knuckled.
Then Eliana appeared on the screen. She said something, and soon they were all moving—out of the camera's view.
Knight didn't waste a second. He switched to the next feed.
The bedroom cam.
She stepped inside, and he tracked her every move like a lifeline. His eyes didn't leave the screen. Not for a breath.
Viper glanced at Chameleon. "Good thinking."
Chameleon didn't respond, but the tension in the room said enough. Nobody in their right mind wanted to mess with Knight when he was like this.
Knight's brow furrowed, eyes narrowing at the screen.
Chameleon leaned closer, following his gaze.
She sat on the edge of the bed. Pulled her knees up.
And then—she cried.
No sound. No dramatic motion. Just a hand pressed to her face… and her shoulders trembling, quietly falling apart.
Knight nearly dropped the tablet.
"Give me the keys," he said, voice low and flat.
Viper blinked. "Boss—"
"I said give me the fucking keys."
Viper scrambled, handing them over without another word. Knight snatched them and stormed toward the door.
"Should we prep the car—?"
"I'll drive myself."
Blood still dripped from his torn knuckles. His shirt hung loose at the shoulder, stained and ripped. His jaw was br
uised, and that familiar storm still swirled under his skin.
But none of it mattered now.
Something was wrong with his woman.
And everything else could burn.