ROPPONGI RECKONING

The Roppongi club throbbed like a living heart bass pounding through black marble floors, strobe lights slicing across writhing bodies, the air thick with sweat, sake, and expensive perfume. Aiden moved through the crowd like smoke, the slim leather collar hidden beneath the crisp collar of his black dress shirt. Every brush of fabric against it reminded him: Silas’s claim. The small silver tag pressed cool against his skin, a secret pulse point.

Silas had stayed visible at the hotel bar, drawing eyes his silver-streaked hair and lethal presence impossible to miss. The plan was simple: Aiden as bait. Victor Kane’s men would recognize him from surveillance photos, assume he was Silas’s weak link, and make a move. Elena monitored feeds from a nearby safe room. One wrong step, and everything unraveled.

Aiden ordered a whiskey at the bar, senses on high alert. His green eyes scanned the VIP section Kane himself lounged there, bald head gleaming under purple lights, predatory grin fixed on a cluster of escorts. Two bulky men flanked him, earpieces glinting. Ex-forces, just as Silas suspected.

A hand grazed Aiden’s lower back too deliberate to be accidental. He turned. One of Kane’s thugs: tall, shaved head, neck tattoos crawling up his throat. “Mr. Blackwood,” the man said, voice low over the music. “Mr. Kane would like a word.”

Aiden’s pulse kicked. “I’m here with someone.”

The thug’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “He knows. Come quietly. Or we drag you.”

Aiden glanced toward the exit too far, too many bodies. He nodded once. The thug gripped his elbow, steering him through a side door into a narrow service corridor. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Another thug waited at the end, blocking the way to the alley exit.

They shoved Aiden against the wall, one hand clamping his throat. “Where’s Vane keeping the decryption key for the merger files?” the first demanded.

Aiden smirked despite the pressure. “You think I’d tell you?”

A fist slammed into his gut. Air exploded from his lungs. He doubled over, coughing. The second thug yanked his arms behind his back, zip-tying wrists tight. Pain flared up his shoulders.

“Boss wants leverage,” the first said, pulling a knife. Blade glinted. “You’ll do nicely.”

Footsteps echoed fast, deliberate. Silas appeared at the corridor’s mouth, coat discarded, sleeves rolled, eyes blazing murder.

“Hands off him,” Silas said, voice deadly calm.

The thugs laughed. One raised the knife toward Aiden’s throat.

Silas moved like shadow lunging, disarming the knife-wielder with a brutal twist, elbow cracking jaw. The man dropped. The second thug charged; Silas sidestepped, drove a knee into his stomach, then slammed his head against the wall. Thug slumped.

Silas was on Aiden in seconds, cutting the zip-ties with a concealed blade, checking for injuries with rough, urgent hands. “You good?”

Aiden nodded, breathing hard. “Told you I wouldn’t run.”

Silas’s gaze darkened relief warring with fury. He hauled Aiden close, mouth crashing down in a kiss that tasted of whiskey and adrenaline. Tongues dueled, teeth grazed. Silas pressed him back against the wall, hands roaming possessively sliding under shirt, fingers finding the collar, tugging it lightly.

“Fuck, I almost lost you,” Silas growled against his lips.

Aiden’s hands fisted Silas’s shirt. “Then claim me. Right here.”

Silas didn’t hesitate. He spun Aiden to face the wall, yanked pants down just enough. Aiden braced palms flat on concrete. Silas slicked fingers with spit crude, desperate pushing two inside without preamble. Aiden hissed, pushing back. Silas added a third, stretching fast, curling to hit prostate.

“Quiet,” Silas warned, free hand clamping over Aiden’s mouth.

He replaced fingers with cock thrusting in deep, one hard stroke. Aiden bit down on Silas’s palm to muffle his moan. Silas set a brutal rhythm fast, possessive, hips slamming forward. Each thrust nailed that spot, pleasure spiking sharp and hot. Silas’s other hand wrapped Aiden’s cock, stroking in time rough, perfect.

“You’re mine,” Silas rasped in his ear. “No one touches what’s mine.”

Aiden came hard, spilling over Silas’s fist, body clenching. Silas followed seconds later growling low, flooding him deep, hips grinding as if to imprint himself permanently.

They stayed locked a moment, breaths ragged in the dim corridor. Silas pulled out carefully, tucked them both away, then turned Aiden, kissing him softer—forehead to forehead.

“We need to move,” Silas said. “Kane’s still upstairs.”

They slipped back through the club, blending into the crowd. Elena met them at a side exit in a black SUV. “Kane’s men are down. Server breach contained—we wiped their copies. But he knows we’re onto him.”

Silas nodded, arm around Aiden’s waist possessive, protective. “Then we finish it. Tomorrow’s merger signing. He’ll try one last play.”

Aiden leaned into him, collar a quiet anchor. “Let him. We’re ready.”

Back at the hotel, they showered together hot water sluicing away blood and sweat. Silas washed Aiden reverently, soaping every mark, kissing bruises. Under the spray, Silas dropped to his knees, taking Aiden into his mouth slow, worshipful. Aiden guided him with gentle fingers in wet hair, hips rocking lazily until he spilled down Silas’s throat.

Later, tangled in sheets, Silas traced the collar with a fingertip. “I meant it. No more games. No more revenge.”

Aiden searched his eyes. “And Marcus?”

Silas exhaled. “I’ll bury the hit evidence. For you. But if he comes for us again…”

Aiden nodded. “I’ll stand with you.”

Silas pulled him close, voice rough with something new vulnerability. “I love you, Aiden. Have for longer than I’ll ever admit.”

Aiden’s heart stuttered. He kissed Silas slow, deep. “I’m falling too. Hard.”

Dawn crept through curtains as they drifted toward sleep.

Aiden’s phone lit on the nightstand new message, same unknown number:

Beautiful scene in the corridor. But Kane has one more card. Check your email. You’ll want to see what Marcus really sold to fund that hit.

Aiden froze. Silas stirred beside him, sensing tension.

“What is it?”

Aiden opened the email attachment a grainy photo from ten years ago. Marcus handing an envelope to a known fixer. But beside them stood a younger Victor Kane, grinning, shaking hands.

The pieces clicked.

It wasn’t just Marcus.

Kane had been in on it from the start.

And now he had proof to burn them all.