Chapter 31 Gio
GIO
“Why can’t I just handle it myself?” I demand, planting the sides of my hands pointedly on the conference room table as the tension in our meeting escalates.
“Kenji thinks I’m out of the game. It’s a perfect opportunity.
I’ll infiltrate the Yakuza compound and kill Kenji and his parents before they even see it coming.
And in the chaos that follows, the Yakuza will quickly crumble. ”
If my brothers were surprised when I decided to jump back into the thick of things with two feet, they never showed it.
But ever since my conversation with Miko the morning after Stephanie ended things, I’ve had only one motivation.
To kill Kenji.
Because Miko was right.
Stephanie and Jackson won’t be safe as long as Kenji’s breathing.
I’m not dumb enough to miss the veiled threat he made toward Stephanie at her flower shop, and while I couldn’t care less if he’s gunning for me, I will not let her get caught in the crosshairs of my messy world again.
She might not want my protection—hell, I know she doesn’t trust in it—but I will make sure she’s not in any danger.
Raf shakes his head. “There’s no way. You’ve finally gone off the deep end. That house is an impenetrable fortress. Why do you think Father never went after the Tanakas directly?”
“Because he wouldn’t so much as lift a finger if it might put his neck on the line—not if he could think of a way to manipulate the situation instead,” I say flatly, my voice dripping with malice.
My anger toward our father has only intensified since I found out what he did to Stephanie. Miko was right.
The Don was a sick, twisted man, willing to marry Leo, his first legitimate son and heir, to our sworn enemy to save face when he was losing a silent war for territory.
He stole Miko as a baby from his biological parents to keep them under his boot.
He kidnapped and brutalized Stephanie just to keep me in line.
And my brothers sit in stunned silence as I vocally spit on his memory for the first time.
I’m usually the calm one, the level-headed Chiaroscuro with an ability to take a step back and look at things objectively. But when it comes to Stephanie, that’s never been the case.
She is the very lifeblood that gives reason to my existence, and just the thought of Kenji making good on his veiled threat boils my blood.
Standing, I pace, the need for movement crawling under my skin like electricity.
“I’ve been watching the Tanaka compound around the clock for days,” I explain, diverting the conversation back to my plan.
“We know enough now that it could work. Especially if it’s just me, one man sneaking in under the cover of night. You know I can do it.”
I’ve done it before—to the family that took Stephanie from me.
And though I don’t say as much, I know my brothers are thinking it.
They’ve seen the incredible violence I’m capable of when I put my mind to it, and I can feel that heavy truth weighing down the air.
“It would be a suicide mission,” Raf says softly.
I turn toward him, let him see the cold in my eyes. “Then it’s my funeral.”
“If you think we’ll just let you—”
“You think you can stop me?” My tone cuts across his words. “The longer Kenji breathes, the more danger Stephanie’s in. And Jackson.”
That gets them.
I see it in Miko’s face, in Sandro’s tightening jaw.
Raf is still shaking his head, but he’s outnumbered now.
Where we had been evenly split about going to war or waiting for a proper strategy, now it’s three on one, Raf being the only brother hoping to hold out for better odds.
Miko leans back, blowing out a loaded breath. “You’re really gonna do this?”
I don’t answer. I just look at him.
Sandro’s the first to nod. “Just tell us how we can help.”
Miko follows. “We’ll set you up for the best chance of success.”
Raf curses under his breath, muttering something about idiots, but even he doesn’t try to stop the momentum now, and something in my chest eases, allowing in a trickle of relief at the thought that I might at least be able to do this to protect Stephanie.
Two nights later, I’m crouched in the shadows outside the Tanaka estate.
Sweat trickles down the nape of my neck beneath the high collar of my dark shirt meant to help me blend in with the moonless night.
My pulse is steady, my breathing even as I assess the high walls that surround their home.
Even those look Japanese, with rough, natural stone forming a slanting wall that tapers into a narrow, shingled roof.
From what Miko told me about the layout inside, the entire compound was built in classic Japanese style with a modern touch.
That means I won’t have too high of a climb once I get past the walls—but I’ll have a lot of ground to cover in my search for Kenji’s room.
I’ve done this before—slipped into enemy territory like smoke and left only bodies behind.
But tonight, the stakes feel higher, like a silent time bomb is ticking down, and I don’t know when it will go off.
But if it does, that will be the end for Stephanie. Which is why I have to get this done tonight.
The compound is quieter than usual as I wait for the change of guard.
And when it comes, I scale the wall near the southeast corner, boots silent against stone, and drop into the courtyard like a shadow.
Every movement is calculated. I slip by one guard, then another—quick, clean, without leaving a trace.
Then I slip inside a sliding glass door that leads to and from a koi pond. The halls inside smell of sandalwood and old blood.
Knife in my hand, I creep forward, my gun holstered but within reach if things go south.
From what I’ve gathered, Kenji’s room should be in the east wing.
I move that way, keeping to the edges of the hall, avoiding light. I’m thinking about how I’ll do it—how slow, how messy—when I hear voices in the next room.
“…on a hunting expedition now.”
I pause, pressing closer to the wall.
“When will Kenji be back?” another voice asks.
“Hard to say. He’s after a woman and her brat. Someone connected to the Chiaroscuros.”
The air in my lungs freezes.
My grip on the knife tightens until my knuckles ache.
Woman, brat, Chiaroscuro connection, they could be talking about anyone, but my gut tells me otherwise.
They’re talking about her.
About them.
In an instant, my mission changes.
I’m already moving, retracing my steps through the halls, slipping back into the night.
The kill I came for is irrelevant now—and that ticking time bomb just went off.
By the time I’m clear of the compound, I’ve got my phone out as I dial Miko.
He picks up on the second ring. “You done already?”
“They’ve gone after her,” I say without preamble, my voice like gravel. “I heard someone say Kenji’s on a hunting trip for a woman and her kid connected to us. You tell me who the hell else that could be.”
“Merda,” Miko breathes.
“Get Sandro and Raf. I’m heading to her house now. If you’re not there in ten minutes, I swear to God—”
“We’re moving.”
I hang up and slip behind the steering wheel of Miko’s stealthy black Porsche, and within seconds, I’m pushing the car to its limits as I tear down the streets, weaving through traffic.
Every second I’m not there is another second Kenji could be.
My mind is a reel of images—Stephanie on the floor, Jackson screaming, Kenji’s smug face—each one twisting the knife in my chest.
She told me she didn’t want me in her life anymore, and I respected it. I walked away.
But that doesn’t mean I stopped caring.
Right now, none of that matters.
What matters is getting there before it’s too late.
The city blurs past me, a smear of lights and shadow.
I’ve got one hand on the wheel, the other checking my gun, counting rounds.
Two extra mags sit heavy in my jacket pocket, my knife sheathed in my boot.
I have a backup piece in the glove compartment.
But hopefully, it won’t come to that.
I can’t imagine the trauma it might cause Jackson or Stephanie if this turns into a firefight.
I think about the last time I saw Jackson, the way he smiled up at me like I was some kind of hero. I think about Stephanie’s eyes when she told me it was over—firm, but with something buried deep I couldn’t name.
They don’t deserve to be targets in this life.
But Kenji doesn’t care. And that’s why I’m going to put him in the ground.
By the time I turn onto Stephanie’s street, my brothers are ten minutes behind me. I kill my lights as I approach, scanning for anything out of place—parked cars that don’t belong, shadows where they shouldn’t be.
But everything is still and quiet, the peaceful neighborhood entirely asleep.
I pull over one house short of Stephanie’s and kill the motor, then watch for any sign of movement.
The muffled sound of a small dog barking is the only sound that bleeds in through the window.
Slipping out of the car, I have my gun in my hand before the door shuts behind me.
I pad silently toward the gate of her white picket fence.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I find it latched. But as I open it, creeping down the flagstone walk, a tingling sense of foreboding trickles down my spine.
Several of Stephanie’s beautiful chrysanthemums near the porch have been trampled and broken.
Jackson would never be so careless as to hurt a plant with Stephanie for his mom.
And I know it’s not something Stephanie could be responsible for.
Stomach in a tight knot, I press forward, confident now that I won’t be waiting for backup from my brothers.
And when I step noiselessly onto the wood planks of her porch, I can see in the deep shadows that her cheerful yellow front door is ajar.