Mistress Mika Katana Novels & Stories

But underneath those kind eyes is a stone-cold killer. They nicknamed her the Onryo. Which is a Japanese vengeful spirit. Returned in ghost form to harvest the souls of those that have betrayed them in life. She is the first female Don, also known as a Donna. Apparently she is a force to be reckoned with and has mastered many kinds of self defence skills. But her favourite weapon of choice is the Katana. Hence the name. The last thing her enemies see is the look of death in her eyes as she takes her revenge.

Just room service, probably, or housekeeping double-checking the mini bar. Marie didn’t move. She waited until the footsteps faded before crossing to the small table by the minibar. Her clutch sat there, slim, elegant, and mostly useless. She opened it, there were lip gloss, breath mints, a folded note from Storm with a single name scrawled on it: Dante. He was her in. A dealer, one of Storm’s informants, planted inside the casino weeks ago. He’d find her, give her the chip with the micro-recorder embedded inside. A one-time chance. One conversation. One moment of proof.

“Look at her lying there, not moving. She’s probably faking it to extort money from the poor girl!” I watched as some of them pulled out their phones to record, sharing the scene online to expose me. Trembling with pain, I didn’t say a word to defend myself. It was then that James finally arrived. The moment Lisa saw him, her tears flowed even harder. “James, look! I don’t know what I did wrong, but she suddenly attacked me with a knife.” Seeing the small cut on Lisa’s hand, James immediately walked over and slapped me hard across the face.

She picked up the memorial photo from the floor, feigning confusion. "What's this picture?" she mumbled. Then, she shrieked, deliberately dropping Claire's photo on the ground as if it were cursed. "Martin, Stella is... Isn't this going too far? Mrs. Hughes Senior is alive and well, but she actually..." Martin violently tore the photo to shreds and threw the pieces in my face. The fragments cut my cheeks and sliced through my already shattered heart. I dropped to my knees, frantically picking up the pieces and trying to put them back together. The glass shards pierced my palms and shins, but nothing hurt as much as seeing Claire's final photo destroyed.

Who exactly is she? “Are you surprised, master?” Katana teases me, “I mean isn’t it a shame for you to change yourself to a lady only because you want to be near the woman you call mate yet you rejected?” “How did you find out?” I ask her, “how?” “Of course I did” Katana moves closer to me and dusts some invisible dust from my robe, a gesture that annoys me to the core, “I mean I was the one who killed Athena in a fight three years ago, master”

My cock pressed hard against her thigh, and she whimpered—not from pain, but from need. I wanted to flip her over the table right there. Spread her legs. Bury myself so deep she'd forget her own name. But I didn't. I pulled back, holding her gaze. Her pupils were blown wide. Lips swollen. She was Perfect. Then the door opened. Another woman arrived..the one Massimo had meant to bring. I waved her off. I looked at Katarina, kneeling in front of me, her dress half off and her body still trembling. Then I smiled.

Piercing cries reverberated, bringing the entire locus, counting the air and any life forms to shake; indicating the arrival of a formidable yet ghastly being. "Do it now, Takuya!" The Mistress ordered and much to Charlotte's surprise, Takuya pulled out a sharp poignard from the holster hidden underneath his cloak and charged towards Tomoya. He had to kill him quick before Takumi wakes up or else, they're going to lose him to a point of no return; however, things went into a difficult sailing when the wind had gone strong and started sweeping each of them from their feet. "This is bad," The Mistress groaned, falling down in one knee.

This force shattered his confidence, and he collapsed on the ground. Trembling, he pleaded, "I'm sorry, Ms. Mihika! Please don't kill me!" Unperturbed, Mihika continued, "Do you have any idea who I am? How dare you deceive me! Have you ever considered the consequences if your lies were exposed?" Meanwhile, Adrian saw something happening in Mihika's hands. A cold energy was converging together to form a frosty sword. It seemed that she was ready to use the sword to deal with Morok and put an end to him.

Eiko sat seiza, precise, silver-streaked chignon unyielding, fox-sharp features softened only by pearl earrings, swaying judgment. I lowered, opposite an athletic frame, folding disciplined despite the South Side itch to bolt, hazel eyes locking her piercing dark. She poured matcha in a slow ritual, jade-ringed fingers steady as katana strikes, bowl extended in two-handed reverence, masking steel. "Nia Whitaker," she said, Tokyo clip weaving English silk, "you intrigue. Kenji's crisis queen, dismantling his careful chaos. Drink." Bitter green coated my tongue, grounding the unease prickling my scar above the brow. "Intrigue's mutual, Eiko-san. Inviting the enemy to tea? Bold play for a woman