Emperor of Havoc: A Dark Forced Marriage Mafia Romance

For a moment time stops and the world goes still. I stand on the brink, staring into the abyss.

Run.

This is what I’ve wanted, right? What I’ve secretly ached for in the darkest parts of the night, in the most shadowy corners of my thoughts.

To be chased. To be caught, forced, and brutalized, even if I say no. Especially if I say no.

And yes, I’m aware of how supremely, utterly fucked that is.

There’s a sickness in wanting things you’re not supposed to want. A twisting, gnawing hunger that makes you question everything you think you are. I shouldn’t crave the rush of danger. The sharp edge of surrender. I shouldn’t need to feel powerless to remember that I actually have control.

But I do.

The shame comes later, like clockwork, wrapping around my ribs, suffocating and unrelenting, whispering that I’m wrong. Flawed.

But desire doesn’t care about shame. It slithers past logic, past control. It finds the darkest recesses of your psyche and lights them on fire, daring you to touch the flame.

My whole life, I’ve behaved as I should. Been who I should. A perfect daughter. A warrior. A dutiful soldier in my father’s empire.

This forbidden desire feels like rebellion, taking back a piece of myself no one else can touch. It feels like freedom. And maybe that’s why I can’t let it go, even if the shame that comes with it burns me alive.

I don’t know where these desires came from. There’s no single memory or moment I can point to, no clear reason why I crave the very thing I should fear. The hunger is just there, insatiable and unrelenting, whispering to me in the quiet corners of my mind.

Maybe it’s tied to my silence, when my voice was stripped from me so long ago. Maybe it’s tied to the parts of me I’ve locked away—the memories of that basement, of the cold, dark shadows, and to the thought that I’d never come out of that place.

Or maybe I was born broken.

Honestly, I don’t want to unravel it, untangle the wires of my desires or dissect the why. I just want to feel. To be unmade. To let go of the control I’ve clung to so tightly, and in doing so, maybe find something deeper, something real.

This is why I signed up for the Club Venom app. Why I sought out a deviant presence like “Kaiju” and told him—a complete stranger—my most fucked-up fantasies, and precisely how I wanted him to fulfill them for me.

But now, in the darkness, with him lurking at my back like a predator waiting to strike, it’s like I’m frozen, unsure if I’m actually going to make this leap of…well, not faith.

More like damnation.

“Well?” Kaiju growls into my ear, his voice moving as he prowls around me. “While I do have questions about why and how the fuck you’re here, given that I don’t have my location shared, you’re obviously not really here to try and get a job with the Yakuza.” He says it in a mocking tone which grates on me a little.

Why is that ‘obvious’? I want to ask. Because I’m a woman?

Joke’s on him if he knew who my father is, who I am. But even if I could somehow tell him, I wouldn’t. That’s not what I’m here for.

So what ARE you here for, if you’re not going to run?

The masked monster stops mid-prowl around me. He sighs heavily.

“Now you’re just wasting my fucking time,” he growls. “So let’s do this. You either run—now—or I take you back into that other room and fuck you on stage in front of all of them. I can’t promise what might happen to you after I’m done, but who knows, maybe you’re into group play.”

My spine snaps to attention, my pulse throbbing like liquid fire.

“So for the very last fucking time, little prey,” Kaiju murmurs darkly. I feel his hot breath against my cheek as he leans in from the side. “Time. To fucking. RUN.”

This time, I do.

The first step is instinctive, raw survival taking over as I bolt through the darkness, my feet pounding on the concrete floor. The blackness stretches out in every direction, oppressive, endlessly suffocating. My hood falls back as I sprint, my coppery blonde hair whipping around me.

There’s a dark, malevolent laugh somewhere in the emptiness around me. His footsteps follow, deliberate and steady, the sound of them thundering in my ears. He’s not rushing; he doesn’t have to. Each step feels calculated, predatory, designed to remind me that no matter how fast I run, he will catch me.

In the almost pitch-black gloom a door suddenly looms ahead, dimly outlined by the faintest sliver of light. I find the handle, my pulse roaring as I twist it open and slam through.

Outside, the neon glow of the city lights hit me like a slap. The cool night air envelops my lungs as I sprint through the Mori estate.

It’s a huge compound with manicured gardens, winding paths, and towering stone walls. Shadows stretch across the grass like dark fingers reaching for me, and every rustle of a leaf or snap of a twig feels like his presence closing in.

I zigzag through the garden, trying to lose him in the maze of hedges and trees. My body screams for rest, my legs burning, but I can’t stop. Not when I hear him growing closer, each footfall reminding me just how small the gap between us is becoming.

I vault over a low stone wall, landing heavily on the other side. The impact jars me, pain shooting up to my knees, but I push forward. My breathing is ragged, my vision tunneling, but I don’t look back. Looking back means seeing him. It means seeing how close he is. I can’t afford that.

“How about a little faster?” his voice taunts from the shadows to my right, dark amusement lacing every syllable. “You’re doing so well, Snowflake.”

A shudder wracks my body. The idea that he knows exactly who I am—that he’s known from the moment I stepped into the place—sends fresh terror pulsing through my veins.

I’m not just being hunted. I’m being toyed with.

I dart left, then right, weaving through the labyrinthine garden until I come to a sudden halt.

Dead end.

A towering hedge blocks my path, and the footsteps behind me grow louder, closing in with unnerving, unwavering precision.

I turn slowly, my back pressed against the hedge. He emerges from the shadows, his oni mask glinting in the moonlight. Shirtless, his ink-covered body radiates menace, every muscle taut with restrained power. The baseball bat rests casually on his shoulder, the weapon almost making a mockery of the situation. He doesn’t need it to subdue me.

He’s already won.

“Caught you,” he says, his voice a dark purr that sends shivers rippling down my spine.

I’m trembling, my chest heaving as I try to summon a defense, anything to hold him at bay. But he steps closer, the space between us vanishing, his presence swallowing me whole.

Japan isn’t exactly known for its tall population, but Kaiju towers over me, easily six-foot-four, maybe even more. His bare, tattooed shoulders are broad and muscular, his arms powerful and sculpted. His abs look to be carved from stone, disappearing in a V-shape into his black jeans.

Suddenly he surges right into me, shoving me back against the hedge-covered wall. My eyes bulge as the smooth wood of the baseball bat presses on my wrists, pinning them high over my head against the rough twigs behind me.

His strength is effortless, the bat held in one hand as if my resistance is laughable, his body caging mine with predatory heat. The coarse leaves of the hedge bite into my back, but the sharp sensation is nothing compared to the searing awareness of the man himself—his bare chest so close I can feel the warmth radiating off his ink-covered skin.

His mask tilts down toward me, the leering grin of the oni demon swallowing my vision as his free hand drags slowly along the curve of my jaw. My heart hammers wildly, a rhythm betraying fear and something darker as his voice curls through the night, low, dangerously amused.

“I have to admit, I’m impressed by the fight in you, little prey.”

I shiver as he leans even closer, tilting his head to the side as he crowds into the crook of my neck, near my ear.

“Impressed and turned the fuck on.”

Without warning, his free hand suddenly shoots out, pinching the zipper at the front of my hoodie and yanking it down. His eyes drop to the front of my black t-shirt, his mask tipping to the side again. The black emptiness of the mask’s eyes pierces my skin, sending shivers up my spine and tightening my nipples to pebbled points under the cotton.

A dark laugh rumbles from behind his mask.

“Looks like I’m not the only one, either.”

He reaches out suddenly and roughly pinches one of my nipples between his forefinger and thumb. Pain and pleasure zip through me, electrifying me and bringing a choked, gurgling sound to my throat. He twists his fingers, mercilessly pulling and tugging on my nipple as something vicious curls and throbs in my core.

He pinches again, harder this time. I choke on another gasp, my back arching sharply as I strain against the bat pinning my wrists over my head.

But there’s no getting away. No dislodging him.

I’m helpless.

“Now…” he muses quietly. “I wonder where I should start with you. I’ll admit, the prospect of using your mouth right now is very tempting. But that would involve removing your mask,” he murmurs, lifting his black gaze to my hidden face.

I stiffen.

“Kaiju” chuckles darkly.

“And that’s a prospect that terrifies you, for some reason. Of course, that only makes me want to remove this mask even more. I’m so curious who I’ll find,” he continues slowly, his voice somehow both mocking and sensual. “Some rich little princess? Daughter of a government official? Perhaps you’re married, little prey.” He grunts one mirthless, dark laugh. “Or maybe it’s just that the idea of letting me look such a naughty, eager little fucktoy in the eye terrifies you.”

I gurgle again as he roughly pinches my other nipple.

“You obviously like it rough and tinged with pain. So perhaps there’s another place I should start with you,” he growls, looming closer. “Maybe I’ll turn you around and ram my cock up your tight little ass right here against the hedge.”

My eyes bulge behind my mask. Sweat slicks the small of my back as his hand slides to my neck. His long, powerful fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing just enough to send a pulse of adrenaline roaring through my system, making my legs shake.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

I jolt at the sound of another voice, behind Kaiju: a voice that also speaks in clear English, with a British accent. The man with his fingers wrapped around my throat tenses up—but not because he’s been caught.

Because he’s been interrupted, and he’s annoyed about it.

He exhales roughly. His black-out eyes stay locked on me, as if weighing my fate. Then suddenly he releases my wrists, lowering the bat. His hand drops from my throat. Cool air rushes into my lungs as I inhale sharply, shuddering as he slowly turns away from me.

I catch a brief glimpse of the other man: Caucasian, with tattoos snaking out from under his t-shirt, up his neck and down his arms. But then my masked attacker turns fully toward him, blocking him from my view.

I quickly tuck my hair back into a bun and stuff it back into the hoodie, zipping it up as my pulse skitters and ripples.

“Can I fucking help you, Mal?” Kaiju mutters darkly.

Mal…

The gears inside my head turn for a second, then it clicks. Mal as in Mal Ulstäd, cousin to Kenzo Mori, head of the Mori-kai.

“Yeah, you can. It’s your fucking initiation, and you just walked out.”

I can hear him walking closer. Kaiju steps to the side as Mal approaches, his brow furrowed as his gaze lands on me.

“What the fuck is this, man?”

“Part of the initiation,” Kaiju growls darkly. “Part of my initiation. I was…” He turns toward me, tilting his head to the side in a way that might be amusement or might equally be menace.

“Testing this one.”

“Okay, well, you’re needed back there.”

Kaiju shrugs, holding the baseball bat over his muscled shoulder.

“Fine.”

“What about him?” Mal grunts, nodding at me.

Kaiju turns to leer at me through his blank, emotionless mask. The seconds tick by.

“He’s done,” he finally growls. “I’ll kick his ass out.”

I shudder as his huge hand jerks out and grabs my upper arm. His grip is rough and unmerciful as he turns and starts to drag me after him across the compound. My legs feel like jelly as I stumble after him.

Back inside, he leads me down a few dark hallways until we reach the same side door I entered through before. I’m still shaking everywhere as he hauls me out the door and finally releases me.

He doesn’t move. He just stands there, baseball bat draped across the back of his neck, his arms over it and his head to the side as that blank, black stare stabs into my very soul.

“Playtime is done for now, prey,” he growls quietly, a slightly amused tone in his voice.

I inhale sharply as he moves right into me, looming over me.

“But don’t think for a second that this is over…”

And deep down, I know he’s right.