Emperor of Lust: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance
Emperor of Lust: Chapter 40

Hana and the girl drop, and there’s no time to think. Just act.

I dive over the edge, fingers outstretched, desperate to catch her. The rope jerks tight around my waist, yanking me hard, pain flaring like fire where it cinches into my ribs. My vision blurs for a second, my body screaming in shock.

I yell in sharp, searing agony, but I don’t stop. I can’t. I look down, and there she is—dangling at the end of the rope, her body limp, swaying slightly in the air, out cold.

“Hana!” I roar. No answer.

Blood seeps from my side, dark and wet, sliding down the rope in slick rivulets.

Fuck.

I think Ryu may have hit me.

I glance down, wincing when I see the blood flowing freely from the puncture-hole in my side.

Yeah, he did.

The knot around my waist is soaked, and I feel it start to slip. Panic claws at me, an animal urge to fight the pull of gravity, fight against the sheer terror of losing Hana.

I look over and spot the other girl, still tied to the chair, face pale as she clings to her own lifeline. She’s got one hand free now, fingers clutching the rope, and the determination in her gaze strikes me. She’s fighting just as hard.

Nothing personal, but she’s not who I’m here for, and she knows it. She’s on her own—at least until I can get Hana to safety.

I look back at Hana, unconscious, suspended on that thin, blood-slicked rope. The knot holding her gives a little, and my heart leaps into my throat as she slips down an inch.

There’s only one choice here, only one thing I can do. I tighten my grip, gritting my teeth as I look back up the rope, looped over the beam.

Go. Go fucking now.

My entire body feels like it’s on fire as I start to pull both my weight and Hana’s up, my grip digging into the rope to fight the slickness of the blood coating my hands. I groan, muscling my way up inch by torturous inch, knowing damn well that any second, I could feel the weight go slack behind me when her knot gives way.

I won’t let that happen.

Every pull feels like hell, pain ripping through the bullet wound in my side. Blood flows from me, thick and steady, dripping down toward Hana hanging below. The rope is so wet it’s almost impossible to hold on, but I push through, clawing my way back to the beam by sheer force of will.

“Hana,” I grit out, voice raw, pain blinding. She’s the only thing keeping me focused.

My vision blurs again as I reach the beam, chest heaving with the effort. I brace myself, my grip starting to slip, but I tighten my hold even more, pulling her up inch by precious inch. She’s so close now, so damn close—but the knot around her waist loosens, slipping, the blood making it slick and dangerous.

“No,” I seethe to myself, my pulse roaring in my ears.

I won’t let go. I can’t. She’s everything—my only reason for doing any of this.

But I’m fading, my head swimming with exhaustion, the blood loss sapping my strength. My muscles shake and my hands are numb as I pull her the last few inches, dragging her onto the beam. Just as the knot gives way, I grab her under the arms, yanking her to safety.

“Hana,” I whisper, my fingers desperately brushing her cheek. Her eyes flutter open, hazy with confusion, and relief floods through me, wild and overwhelming.

“Damian?” she murmurs, her voice so soft it’s almost lost in the chaos.

“I love you,” I groan, the words like a final confession. The last thing I have to give.

And then the world tilts, my vision darkening. My body slumps, the strength seeping from me as everything slips away, and the last thing I see—the last thing I’ll ever see—is her face, alive and safe, as I descend into darkness.