The Yakuza’s Mute Bride novel Chapter 97

Chapter 97

“She is sleeping.” Yukito said quietly.

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The words were gentle, almost reverent, spoken as though he feared even sound itself might disturb her.

Naomi’s body had finally gone slack in his arms, the rigid tension that had held her upright only moments ago dissolving now that the danger had passed. Her head rested against his shoulder, lashes damp with tears, lips parted slightly as her breathing evened out.

Tadashi exhaled through his nose, a slow, controlled breath, though his eyes never left her.

For a long moment, he simply stared.

“She acted like I was dying,” he muttered flatly, his voice low enough that it barely carried past the immediate circle.

There was a brief pause.

Then, surprisingly, a few of the men let out short, subdued chuckles-not mocking, not disrespectful, but something closer to relief finally finding a crack to escape through.

Yukito did not laugh.

He adjusted his grip on Naomi instinctively, careful not to jostle her injured shoulder, before lifting his gaze to Tadashi.

“She cares,” he said simply.

The word settled between them with quiet weight.

Tadashi scoffed softly, more out of habit than conviction, but he did not look away.

Yukito took a step forward, then paused when he noticed the intensity of Tadashi’s stare fixed on him-sharp, assessing, unreadable.

“You are wounded,” Yukito added calmly, meeting his gaze without flinching. “So it is better that I carry her. Correct?”

For a heartbeat, Tadashi looked as though he might argue.

Then he rolled his eyes in visible irritation, turning his head away.

“Do what you want,” he muttered.

Yukito inclined his head slightly, accepting the unspoken permission, and moved toward the exit with Naomi still cradled securely against his chest.

Behind them, the scene slowly came back under control.

Ota crouched beside the unconscious woman who had tried to kill them, checking her pulse and ensuring she was fully restrained. His expression was grim, jaw tight with restrained fury.

Nearby, Doctor Rui knelt beside Gio, examining his injured hand with swift, practiced movements. Gio winced but remained silent, teeth clenched, refusing to show pain beyond what was unavoidable.

“You are fortunate,” Rui said after a moment, glancing up. “The poison was diluted. Painful, yes, but not lethal. You will be

fine.”

Gio released a long breath through his teeth, nodding once in acknowledgment.

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Chapter 97

Rui then straightened and turned toward Tadashi, his expression cautious but professional.

“Do you want me to examine you as well. Tadashi-sama?” he asked. “That wound-”

“No,” Tadashi interrupted immediately.

The refusal was sharp, instinctive.

“I am fine.”

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Rui studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced, then gave a small nod of acceptance. He had known Tadashi Masayoshi long enough to understand which battles were not worth fighting.

“A woman exaggerates,” Tadashi added dismissively, as though the blood seeping slowly through his clothes were of no consequence at all.

No one contradicted him.

They had learned long ago which truths he would not hear-especially from others.

Security was tightened immediately. The guards began sweeping the premises thoroughly, retracing every movement, every entry point, every possible weakness that had allowed someone to infiltrate the grounds disguised as a servant. Quiet orders were given, radios crackled softly, and the mood shifted from shock to controlled fury.

Someone had made a grave mistake.

And they would pay for it.

By the time the convoy returned to the mansion, the night had fully settled, the air heavy with cold and tension.

Naomi never stirred.

She slept through the drive, her body curled slightly into Yukitos chest, fingers still faintly clenched in the fabric of his jacket as though even unconscious she feared being left alone again.

When they arrived, word spread quickly.

Servants and guards alike gathered, voices hushed, concern etched clearly across their faces-not for their leader, whose bloodied state barely registered as unusual-but for the foreign woman cradled so carefully in Yukito’s arms.

“How is Naomi-san?”

“Is she badly hurt?”

“Should we call another doctor?”

Questions overlapped in whispers as they moved through the halls.

“She fainted,” Yukito answered calmly. “Shock and exhaustion. She will wake.”

That seemed to satisfy them more than any reassurance about Tadashi’s condition ever could.

Yukito carried her straight to Tadashi’s room without hesitation.

No one questioned it.

No one dared.

He laid her gently on the bed, arranging the blankets around her with surprising care, ensuring her injured shoulder was

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Chapter 97

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supported and her breathing unobstructed. For a moment, he lingered there, watching her sleep, his expression softening in a way few people ever saw.

Then his gaze drifted upward.

And froze.

The walls.

His breath stilled.

Every instinct in him sharpened as he took in the sight before him.

A large painting dominated the far wall.

It was Naomi.

Not a photograph. Not a casual sketch.

A painting.

Rendered with painstaking detail-the curve of her jaw, the softness of her eyes, the faint melancholy that always seemed to cling to her expression even when she smiled. The brushstrokes were confident, deliberate, intimate.

It was unmistakably Tadashi’s hand.

Yukito stared, silent.

He had never been inside Tadashi’s private quarters in all the years they had known each other. Not once during the time he had stayed by Naomi’s side in London. He had never seen this.

Ota stepped up beside him quietly.

“Tadashi himself painted her,” Ota said in a low voice. “Not long after you all left for London.”

Yukito swallowed.

Of course he had.

That explained everything-and nothing at all.

He nodded once, absorbing the truth, before turning away from the bed. There was nothing more he needed to see.

They left the room just as Tadashi entered with Doctor Rui, already unbuttoning his bloodstained shirt with visible irritation.

The door closed softly behind them.

Inside, Tadashi stood still for a moment, the noise of the outside world falling away as his eyes landed on the sleeping woman in his bed.

Her face was pale but calm now, lashes resting against her cheek lips parted slightly as she breathed.

Without thinking, his steps slowed.

He moved closer.

Rui cleared his throat quietly, preparing his instruments, but even he paused when he noticed the way Tadashi was looking at her.

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Chapter 97

As though she were something fragile.

Something dangerous.

Something he could not quite understand-but could not let go of either.

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And for reasons he refused to examine too closely, Tadashi Masayoshi felt an unfamiliar tightening in his chest as he stood there, bleeding and silent, watching the woman who had thrown herself in front of death for him sleep as though she trusted the world not to hurt her again.

Even if he was the most dangerous thing in it.

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