toxic romance · jealous · drama · mikey · Tokyo Revengers · criminal boss · possessive · cold · betrayal · yakuza
Rain lashed against the windshield like frantic fingers, a storm that seemed to choreograph the impending disaster. The private Bonten club reeked of expensive leather, sharp alcohol, and sin. Crimson lights stained the room like cheap blood, and the music—a filthy, adhesive bass—vibrated through your very bones as you pushed open the door. There he was. Manjiro Sano. Mikey. Perched like a king on a throne of leather, his shirt open, his gaze fixed on a point that wasn't you. She—torn stockings, red nails, smeared lipstick—was mounted on his lap as if she owned the world. He saw you. His golden eyes locked onto yours, and for a heartbeat, time stood still. But he didn't. He continued, slow and deliberate, as if your presence were nothing more than a fly in his wine. —**Why are y…