1.1 | The Yakuza Bride

Chapter 1

The blade glinted as it spun circles above him before he snatched it out of the air. Leonidas Federov held the knife at eye level and slowly, meaningfully, twisted it back and forth so that it reflected light from the single bulb above him. The room was cold, for they were below ground, but it wasn't just the lack of warmth that caused the men before him to shiver.

'So,' he started with a mocking drawl, his eyes now trained on the kneeling figure closest to him. 'Ready to speak yet?'

His captive sneered and cursed in his native tongue. Leon's men had bound their prisoners with rope but they might as well not have bothered for they barely put up a fight.

'Come on,' he continued in the same teasing tone. This was getting dull. Why had they sent a bunch of weaklings his way? There was no spirit to them. No brawn, no fight. Within seconds of being caught stealing from one of his drug caches, they had fallen to their knees to beg for their lives.

How they discovered the holding place was another matter altogether. But what annoyed him most was that two of them had brought guns but were too slow in pulling out their weapons to defend themselves. He was insulted.

'Do you need some help?' he offered.

Only the crashing of waves against the sea gates replied him.

The rest were evidently taking instructions from this man but he was a less than worthy leader. How had this motley crew been assembled?

Leon nodded at his Head of Security who had been idly watching from the side. Mickey stepped forward to take the knife from his hand, then stood above their prisoner with a sigh. The captive screamed and shrank back at the threat, his eyes bulging at the blade. Then in one quick motion, Mickey bent over and slashed at the prisoner's chest. The man cried out as blood seeped slowly from the wound and soaked his shirt.

'It's not me, it's not me,' he cried, his voice trembling. He sucked in a shaky bout of air but it did little to calm the fright in his pale face. 'It was Juan! Carlos intercepted his goods, so Juan wanted me to get something quick so that we could sell it! We found the place where you hid your stuff.'

His eyes flew down to his wound. His chin shook with fear.

'Oh God. It's a lot of blood. I'm bleeding a lot – '

Leon tilted his face to the dank ceiling and let out a soft whistle. What a sudden rush of words. He should have gone physical with them earlier.

'His father's corpse has barely started rotting and he's trying to antagonise us already?' he mused. 'He's that desperate to play, is he?'

'He wants to show off to Carlos,' the bleeding man continued desperately. With his hands bound, he could only stare at his wound. More blood flowed out to his dismay and he began sobbing. 'I don't know anything else! Please let us go!'

His last plea was accompanied by nods and cries from his men. Let us go! Please! Let us go! We don't know anything! Their voices echoed in the rocky cavern, reverberating against the walls until he thought he could hear a hundred voices repeating the same pathetic plea.

He snatched up the gun that he kept in his shoulder holster. He thought it would have the effect of silencing them, but it did not work with this crew. In fact, the pleading rose sharply by a few notches. His own men were getting on edge at the noise. How could anyone be so loud? He found his silencer and fitted it onto the end of the barrel.

'What's your name?' he asked simply.

'What?' the man cried out. His eyes were fixed on the pistol in his hand.