*Chapter 8: Shadows of Betrayal*

The city was restless that night. The neon lights flickered against the rain-soaked streets, their glow reflecting off puddles like fractured dreams. Taro sat on the rooftop of the hideout, cigarette smoke curling in the air around him. He didn't smoke, not really—but tonight, he let the ember burn between his fingers, letting the bitterness of it seep into his skin.

Mia had yet to give him an answer.

It had been weeks since their conversation, and though she hadn't refused, she hadn't agreed either. Taro had caught glimpses of her in the hideout—scrubbing the floor, serving drinks, avoiding the eyes of men who saw her as nothing more than an object. Each time he looked at her, he saw the same quiet suffering. But was she willing to risk everything to escape?

He couldn't rush her. He knew that. But he also knew time was running out.

The gang was moving faster, taking on riskier jobs, tightening its grip on the city. And Lee—Lee had his eyes on him. The warning he had given Taro in the hallway wasn't just an empty threat. Taro could feel the weight of it in every glance, every interaction. Lee was waiting for him to slip.

A rustling noise behind him made him tense. He turned, only to find Ken standing there, hands in his pockets, eyes sharp as ever.

"You're thinking too much," Ken muttered, stepping closer. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter, flicking it open with a practiced ease. "That's dangerous in a place like this."

Taro exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You ever think about getting out of here?"

Ken arched a brow, the flame of his lighter dancing between them. "What makes you think I haven't?"

Taro studied him, trying to read between the lines. There was something about Ken—something unreadable. He was part of the gang, but never fully immersed. He played by the rules, but never seemed shackled by them.

"Then why are you still here?" Taro asked.

Ken clicked the lighter shut, letting the darkness settle between them. "Because leaving isn't as simple as walking out the front door. And you know that."

Taro looked away, the rain starting to drizzle again, cool droplets tapping against his skin.

"If you're planning something," Ken said, his voice dropping lower, "be careful. This place swallows people whole."

Taro didn't answer. He didn't need to. Ken already knew.

Later that night as Mia stood in the kitchen, staring at the knife in her hands. It wasn't a weapon—just a dull, overused blade meant for cutting vegetables. But as she turned it over, watching the way the dim light glinted off the metal, she imagined what it would feel like to wield something sharper.

To finally have control.

Taro's words had been circling in her mind like a storm.

"We can take him down."

For years, she had believed that escape was impossible. That running was a death sentence. But Taro wasn't just talking about running. He was talking about destroying the very thing that had kept her caged.

She wasn't naive. She knew what Kaito was capable of. She had seen what happened to people who crossed him. But for the first time in a long time, the idea of rebellion didn't feel impossible.

A crash from the main hall made her flinch. Laughter followed—the cruel, drunken kind. She knew what was coming before she even saw them.

Lee and Yuki.

They stumbled into the kitchen like they owned it, which, in a way, they did. Yuki leaned against the counter, her dark eyes flicking over Mia with disinterest, while Lee grabbed a bottle of sake and poured himself a generous glass.

"Mia," Lee drawled, swirling the liquid in his cup. "You've been awfully quiet lately."

Mia didn't respond. She kept her head down, focusing on her work.

Lee smirked. "You're not getting any ideas, are you?"

Mia's hands stilled for a fraction of a second. It was small—barely noticeable—but Lee caught it. His smirk widened.

Yuki stepped forward, dragging a nail across the counter. "You know what I think, Lee?" she mused. "I think Mia's been spending too much time around our dear Taro."

Mia's breath hitched.

Lee's expression darkened. "Is that so?"

He reached out suddenly, gripping Mia's wrist, twisting it just enough to make her wince. "That little punk is getting too comfortable," he murmured, his grip tightening. "And you—you wouldn't be stupid enough to get involved in whatever he's planning, would you?"

Mia shook her head quickly. "No," she whispered.

Lee studied her for a moment before releasing her. She pulled her hand back, rubbing at the tender skin.

Yuki chuckled. "Good girl. It would be such a shame if something happened to you."

They left without another word, their laughter trailing behind them.

Mia swallowed hard, gripping the knife in her hands again. Her pulse was racing, her skin cold.

She had made her decision.

Taro who had been planning his next move carefully, making sure not to draw too much attention. But Yuki wasn't the type to wait for things to unfold.

He was heading back to his room when he felt it—the shift in the air, the presence behind him. Before he could react, a sharp blade pressed against his throat.

"Going somewhere?" Yuki's voice was soft, almost playful.

Taro's muscles tensed. He didn't move. "If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already."

Yuki chuckled. "Clever. But I don't need to kill you, Taro. I just need to remind you of your place."

She moved closer, her breath warm against his ear. "I don't know what you're planning," she whispered. "But I know you're up to something."

Taro remained still.

Yuki pressed the blade just a little harder. "Lee wants you dead," she continued. "And honestly? I'm tempted to grant him his wish."

Taro forced himself to stay calm. "Then why haven't you?"

Yuki smirked. "Because I'm curious. And because I like watching people dig their own graves."

She pulled back, letting the blade slip away from his throat. Taro exhaled slowly, the tension lingering in his chest.

Yuki stepped around him, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Be careful, Taro," she said, her tone mockingly sweet. "You're playing a very dangerous game."

With that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving Taro standing there, his heart pounding.

He had underestimated her.

And now, the game had truly begun.

Taro found Mia later that night, her hands gripping the edge of the sink, her knuckles white.

"I'm in," she whispered.

Taro's eyes widened. "You're sure?"

She turned to face him, her expression hard. "They're already suspicious. If we don't move soon, we won't get another chance."

Taro nodded, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

It was happening.

There was no turning back now.