Chapter 1
~*Steelport — Acquired Penthouse*~
This city was riotous—nothing like their Stilwater or Japan. The city—no, the world—felt empty. Kyouki’s chest felt empty.
She’d felt it all the way in Japan—the shift, the loss. Johnny. Like cold water splashed through her ribs, knocking the air out of her.
This city wasn’t hers. But her Saints were.
“Why are you in Steelport?” Kyouki wasn’t truly asking, nor did she care for an answer. The real question was: What are you doing making a name here? “We already have several shops under our name—established ones,” she said, voice calm but cutting.
Bobby, Mike, Pierce, and Shaundi looked at her. She was waiting. None of them wanted to speak. None of them knew how.
Bobby sighed. This was his responsibility—his fuck-up, again. “Well... see, what had happened was—Josh Birk. His manager and him came to us, said he was doing some movie and needed some experience as a G.”
Kyouki wasn’t looking at him. She was looking through them—past their heads, toward the elevator doors behind. “Joshua Birk,” she said. “Bring him to me.” No waver. Just the threat of tears glinting in her eyes.
Bobby swallowed and started dialing.
Kyouki turned sharply—startling the others—and walked toward the tall glass doors leading to the helipad.
Shaundi’s face crumpled. It had been days. The guys tried to convince her not to tell Kyouki, but she reminded them what happened the last time they’d tried to cover something up—and how that ended.
That first phone call turned into a second, then a third.
The others watched as Kyouki stepped into the light—past the pool, out onto the helipad basking in the late summer sun. And she stood there. Waiting.
Kyouki stood on the helipad for hours, long after she’d sent her PA to dig up information on Phillipe Loren.
Slowly, with no one noticing, she inched toward the edge—hundreds of feet above the city streets.
Her lieutenants and cousin watched from inside the penthouse. Shaundi’s call earlier had gone through to the Chief of Police in Stilwater.
~*Precinct 31*~
“Yeah?” Troy answered the unknown number.
“Kyouki is… I don’t know how to—just come to XXXX Steelport. Hurry,” Shaundi’s voice broke through the line, pleading.
Troy was already on his feet. “You’ll have to explain better than that.”
He could hear a groan, the sound of someone fighting to keep composure.
“She’s here because Johnny isn’t. I know you’re her ex—she’s not herself. If you give a damn about her, get your ass here now.”
The call ended. Moments later, Mike’s text came through. Troy glanced at his phone. “You two, I need escort.”
He was already out of the precinct, badge swinging, his people falling in behind him. “Hold on, Ky. Just hold on.”
A small convoy formed behind him as they sped toward the bridge leading into Steelport.
~*Steelport — Helipad*~
Minutes stretched into hours, seconds bleeding by. Kyouki still stood. Still waiting.
The sun warmed her skin until she broke a sweat, the high wind cooling her in a cruel rhythm. Her mind replayed the last time she’d heard Johnny’s voice. She refused to believe he was gone.
Still, she waited.
Shaundi’s phone buzzed in her hand.
> I’m here.
She bolted for the elevator. “Don’t take your eyes off her!” she shouted to Mike and Pierce.
The elevator crawled, holding her for two seconds too long. She slammed the emergency release, forcing it open, sprinting toward the lobby doors.
Five uniformed men stood outside, eyes fixed on the tall tower above.
“Troy?” she called, breathless, face red from crying.
Following behind the Saints’ emblem, the Chief nodded. “Where is she?”
“The roof,” she said, ushering him back the way she came moments ago.
Little did they know, a flicker of panic rippled through the squad below as a glittering hair ornament tumbled, shattering on the concrete.
The upper floor sprawled open before Troy and Shaundi as the elevator doors parted. Kyouki’s men stood silent — living statues — their eyes fixed on their Ane-san.
Shaundi led Troy toward the tall glass doors. The wind kicked up as if the city itself was trying to guard her.
Kyouki stood there — kimono sleeves long and flowing, hair whipping loose — her balance faltering in the gusts.
She raised her phone to her ear just as Troy rounded the pool.
“The number you have dialed is out of the service area. Please try your call again later.”
Time stopped.
A broken sob escaped her lips. The phone slipped from her hand, clattering across the helipad. He always answered before the fifth ring.
Her breath turned ragged. The skyline blurred. The world bent around her.
Troy was closing in — twenty yards and shrinking — as Kyouki tore the ornaments from her hair, strands whipping in the wind. She pulled at her obi, unwrapping layers, stripping away silk and meaning alike.
Everything she’d worked for—fought, bled, and died for—suddenly meant nothing.
The others burst through the doors, calling out for her to stop.
Kyouki laughed. Loud, wild, hollow. Then screamed — a gut-wrenching sound that made even her senior Saints flinch. Her cry broke into sobs so violent they doubled her over. She was so close to the edge that she tipped just as Troy reached her.
“Kyouki!” he lunged, grabbing for her sleeves. “God—no! Ky!”
The others ran out, shouting her name.
Troy’s grip slipped, fabric tearing under strain. “Not like this! Fucking help!”
Hands joined — Pierce, Mike, Shaundi, even Kyouki’s men reached — grabbing his arms, her wrists.
“Ky!”
“Kyouki!”
“Shit, Chief!”
“Boss!”
Her men rushed toward the lower levels, ready to catch her if she were to fall from the others’ grasp.
The air howled, silk strained, hearts broke — despite that, Troy refused to let go.
The fabric gave a final shriek before it tore — but not enough.
Hands locked. Fingers dug into skin. Her wrist burned under the strain as Troy and the others yanked her upward, gravity fighting them every inch.
“Hold—dammit—hold!” Pierce’s voice cracked.
One last pull—and she was over the ledge, collapsing into Troy’s chest.
His grip locked around her — iron and fear. He wasn’t letting go. Not again.
For a moment, no one breathed.
The city’s wind howled around them, sharp and cold. Somewhere far below, the hum of traffic drifted like a heartbeat.
Troy slid back from the metal catch of the helipad, arms still wrapped tight around her. He could feel her trembling. Her hair clung to her face, damp with tears and sweat.
“Ky…” his voice cracked, rough with panic. “What the hell were you doing?”
No answer. Just shallow, uneven breaths.
Shaundi crouched beside them, mascara streaking down her cheeks. “We thought—Jesus, Boss, don’t ever do that again—”
Pierce and Mike backed away, shaken. Even Kyouki’s men—normally stone-faced—looked pale.
Kyouki didn’t speak. Her body felt like lead against Troy’s. Her mind was still somewhere between the edge and the empty air beyond it.
The only sounds were her uneven breathing and the soft rustle of fabric in the wind.
Troy tightened his hold, pressing his forehead to hers. “You scared the shit outta me,” he whispered. “You hear me?”
Her lips trembled. A sound slipped out—half sob, half breath.
He pulled back, hands framing her face, eyes searching hers. “He’s gone, Ky. But you’re not. You hear me? You’re still here.”
Kyouki blinked—slow, dazed. Her eyes, red and distant, met his for just a moment. Long enough to break the silence.“…He promised,” she breathed, voice small and fractured. “He said he’d always be here.”
Troy swallowed hard, jaw tight, grief coiled behind his teeth. “I know,” he whispered. “But we’re here.”
He went to stand, steadying her as the others helped her to her feet. Shaundi caught the fallen kimono before it could drift away and draped it over Kyouki’s shoulders. The fabric hung loose, her hair tangled, her dignity stripped bare—even so, her Saints looked at her with reverence. Never shame.
“Get her inside,” Troy murmured.
Pierce stepped forward, easing a hand beneath her arm. This time, she couldn’t resist. She walked as if half-alive, carried by the only family she had left.
Pierce lifted her carefully, cradling her as they crossed back into the penthouse. The doors closed behind them.
Troy lingered on the helipad.
The shattered hair ornament glittered in the fading light, a scatter of delicate metal and memory. He crouched, picking up a fragment. The gold and crystal caught the sunset like fire.
“Damn it, Johnny,” he muttered, voice low, shaking. “You better be out there… ’cause if you’re not—and she loses herself again…”
He closed his fist around the broken piece, knuckles white.
“…I don’t know if anyone can bring her back.”
Troy gathered her phone and the scattered things she’d dropped, the fragments of her chaos. Carrying them inside, he handed the items to Shaundi.
“I’ll be back in a few hours,” he mumbled.
Shaundi nodded, voice soft but unsteady. “Yeah… thank you.”
“No problem.” The elevator doors slid shut around his words.
Shaundi wiped her nose with the back of her hand, shoulders trembling as she turned back toward the master bedroom—where Kyouki lay unconscious, finally resting.
She sank into the chair beside her, the weight of everything settling like dust.
Below, Troy exhaled—hard. His hands braced against his knees, fingers trembling. His face burned hot, eyes stinging. “Fucking hell.”
He stared at the elevator ceiling as the lift descended. Breathe. The soft ding broke the silence.
By the time the doors slid open, his composure was back on—like a mask.
He stepped through the glass lobby doors; the metallic scrape under his dress shoe stopped him. Light caught on something small and silver beneath his shoe — a broken hairpin, a fallen tie, soft silk the color of her robe.
Troy looked up at the vast height; he realized these are Ky’s. He picked them up.
“Everything alright, Chief?” one officer asked.
Troy crouched, picking it up carefully between his fingers. The ornament’s fracture line gleamed like a wound. He swallowed, forcing his voice steady. “Yeah. Let’s…uh… head back.”
He wasn’t alright. Not even close.
Straightening, he pocketed the hairpin, glanced once toward the skyline above the tower. He was just grateful—grateful he’d made it in time.
“Come on,” he mumbled, stepping out into the cooling night. “We’re done here.”
Troy slid into the driver’s seat, the door shutting with a dull thunk that echoed louder than it should have. For a long moment, he just sat there—hands gripping the wheel, head bowed.
Steelport buzzed around him—neon veins and cigarette smoke. Too loud. Too alive.
He started the engine. The radio crackled alive — he killed it instantly. He didn’t want noise; there was already too much in his head.
The convoy followed as he pulled out, headlights cutting through the late evening haze. The streets blurred past, but his mind stayed anchored on that rooftop—the wind, her scream, the weight of her body in his arms.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered — the words caught somewhere between prayer and curse.
The city lights smeared across his windshield as he crossed the bridge toward Stilwater — the same bridge Johnny had once hung from on a dare. He almost laughed. Almost.
Every mile between him and that rooftop eased the ache in his chest — just barely.
Johnny’s face lingered — grinning, wild, alive. They might’ve clashed like oil and fire, but Troy wouldn’t wish him dead.
‘If you’re out there, Gat... now would be a damn good time to show it,’ he thought.
He exhaled — a tired sound, heavy with years of guilt.
Kyouki’s voice echoed in his head, sharp and furious, alive.
That was before the hurt came — before everything broke.
’You lied to me, to us. You lied to hundreds who considered you family!’
He hadn’t forgotten. Never.
But as the bridge lights faded behind him and Stilwater’s skyline took shape, he knew the veritable storm wasn’t over. Kyouki was alive, but she was breaking. And if Johnny was truly gone… he couldn’t imagine what would be left of her when the pieces finally hit the ground.
Troy gripped the wheel tighter, eyes fixed ahead.
“Hang on, Ky,” he said to the empty car, the city reflected in his rearview mirror like ghosts. “I’ll keep you standing until he comes back. I promise.”
The tires hissed over asphalt; the bridge stretched behind him like a scar.
And the night swallowed Steelport whole.
