24. Jin #2
But they’re the least of my concern. I’m one-track minded as I spin around and finish off the second enforcer.
He’s barely scrambled to his feet. I surge forward, slamming my shoulder into his chest and plunging the knife deep into his sternum.
He lets out a guttural cry and collapses with eyes wide and vacant.
“Police!” one of the bystanders yells. “The police are here!”
“We have to go,” I snap, severing the ties around Monroe’s wrists, then grabbing her by the hand.
We take off running toward the exit. Our boots pound the cement floor as we shove through the chaos and leap over the turnstile. Monroe nearly stumbles, but I hoist her through and then sprint the rest of the way to the parking lot.
“Get in!” I shout, unlocking the Genesis from afar.
She throws herself into the passenger seat. I slide across the hood to the driver’s side, yanking the door open and jamming the key into the ignition.
The sports car lurches forward as two squad cars fly into the parking lot with lights flashing and sirens wailing. They’re none the wiser—at least at the moment—that the perpetrator has just whizzed past them on his way from the scene.
The Genesis blasts through the streets of Busan. We weave through traffic, cutting off any car that goes at a snail’s pace. I couldn’t slow down if I tried.
My pulse races. It hasn’t come down since the fight on the train platform. Blood still mars the back of my hands and the front of my shirt. Monroe’s breathing hasn’t slowed either; she’s sitting beside me in the passenger seat like she can barely contain her adrenaline rush.
“What’s going on?” she asks finally. “Where are we going?”
I glance at her, then back at the road. “I’m dropping you off at a hotel. Somewhere out of the way. Somewhere safe for now. I have business to handle.”
Immediately, I sense her vehement disagreement. Before she even utters a word.
“Nope,” she answers, shaking her head. “You’re not hiding me away somewhere again.”
“Monroe—”
“You’ve tried that already, Jin. Several times,” she snaps. “You tried separating us, and look where it got us. I was almost kidnapped right after you sent me off.”
I grit my teeth as my jaw clenches, hating that she’s right.
“They’re coming for us no matter what we do. Don’t you get it? Whether we stay together or keep apart. It doesn’t matter anymore. So we might as well fight this together!”
Her voice trembles—not from fear—but from fury.
It earns a sidelong glance out of me. I stare at my rabbit and realize she’s not the same woman I met the night in that alley on Haeundae Beach. The woman who had kneeled in submission and begged and wept for her life. She could barely muster up enough courage to meet my eyes.
Monroe has finally come into her own. She’s embraced the fierceness that’s always lived inside her. Though she still possesses a kind heart and bright spirit, she’s learned to unleash the fire burning inside.
“I want to be your back up,” she says. “I’m not running. Not anymore.”
I nod once. “Alright. You can come. But you do as I say. Understand, Tokki-ya?”
Monroe smirks. “Yes, Jin-tae.”
“Don’t call me that.” I return her smirk with a grin despite myself, then punch the accelerator harder. “I didn’t know my little rabbit is such a smartass.”
She laughs and leans back in the seat, glancing out the window at the buildings we jet past. “So then where are we going?”
“The Claw Lounge.”
“But isn’t that where…”
“The lair of the Baekho Pa? Yes,” I answer tensely. My grip tightens on the wheel. As dusk arrives, the city blurs past in streaks of neon lights. “Something one of the Bulgeomhoe bastards said stuck out to me. He knew I was supposed to kill you.”
Her brows furrow as she glances over at me. “I’m not sure I’m following.”
“That was a direct order. No one outside a select few knew. So how did the Bulgeomhoe?”
“You think someone told them?”
“Someone inside the Baekho Pa. Someone like the Baekho-je himself.”
Her fingers touch her lips in shock. “You think your boss betrayed you?”
“I think,” I muse aloud, “he knew I never carried out the hit. And instead of confronting me, he hired the Bulgeomhoe to do it for him. It would kill two birds with one stone. I would kill the Bulgeomhoe and the Bulgeomhoe would retaliate against someone he views as a threat to his power. They burned my apartment to the ground. They tried to take you today. All at his behest.”
“Oh shit, Jin… what are you going to do?”
My answer doesn’t come right away. I stare at the road as it bends ahead, taking us through a financial district with bank buildings and investment firms. The golden light of dusk slants across the windshield and makes our dark eyes look brighter.
“I’m going to get a little even,” I answer finally.
We drive the rest of the way in silence. The golden hues transition into pastel pinks and purples as we reach the street the Claw Lounge is located on. I pull us through a side alley, then brake to a halt.
The lounge itself is across the street, a shell of its former glorious peak. The old wood and faded golden trim look dull pitted against more modern establishments on the block. At the front is the large emblem of the white tiger, peering down with a ferocious, predatory stare.
I twist off the car engine. “Remember, you do exactly as I say. No improvising or going rogue. Not tonight.”
Monroe’s pretty face lights up with a smirk. “Yes, Jin-tae.”
I roll my eyes, then lean over, sliding a pistol from the glove box. I check the magazine and tuck it into the waistband of my pants.
“C’mon,” I say. “Time for some trouble.”
The Claw Lounge is oddly quiet on the inside.
On a weekday evening, the lounge should be buzzing—cigar smoke hazing the air, laughter thickened by soju, lieutenants playing cards at the back tables, scantily dressed girls roaming the floor for our entertainment. All the usual fanfare you’d find in the Claw Lounge.
Instead, only a few scattered bodies are present.
A pair of junior members lounge in tufted chairs near the far wall, sharing a murmured conversation over a bottle of soju.
Another man slumps at the counter, swirling a half empty glass of whiskey, watching us with dull eyes.
One of the servers, dressed in a backless emerald dress, pauses mid-stride with her tray to eye us as we pass.
“Stay with me,” I whisper under my breath. “They’re not used to seeing anyone not affiliated with the syndicate.”
Monroe drifts closer to my side, almost grabbing hold of my arm.
We step into the elevator at the back of the lounge.
I jab the third-floor button and the doors roll closed with a mechanical lurch.
We’re taken up two floors, where the doors snap apart and we enter a hall bathed in an amber-hued light.
The carpet is deep red velvet, stained and worn from years of spilled liquor and blood.
The Baekho’s gaudy gold trim that can be found in almost every corner of the lounge and lines the walls.
So does the tiger emblem on the wallpaper.
I rap my knuckles on the door belonging to the Baekho-je.
Inside, a voice slurs, “Enter!”
At the nudge of my hand, the door creaks open for us.
As always, Kim Jae-hyun lounges like an emperor on his leather throne. A woman kneels on either side of him, one at each of his feet. Their hands knead over the ball and arch of his foot in tiny circles. Both wear miniskirts and painted-on smiles.
Yet another porn film plays on the big screen TV—an orgy of men and women groaning, panting as their sweaty bodies slip and slide together in pleasure.
Monroe stiffens uncomfortably beside me.
Jae-hyun grins, blowing out cigar smoke. In his other hand, he clutches some soju. He booms, “Ah, Jin-tae! And you’ve brought a guest! I think I recognize this one. Has she come back from the grave?”
“I’m not here for games,” I say coldly. Then I pin both girls at his feet with a chilling glare. “Both of you—OUT!”
The girls flinch at the volume of my voice, then scurry like mice, their heels clicking.
The grin drops from Jae-hyun’s face. He pauses the movie using a remote, then slams down his glass of soju. He rises from his chair, face flushed from heat and alcohol. The smell of soju seems to rise from his pores, he’s drank so much of it.
“How dare you?” he growls. “It is not your place to order my girls from the room! Or to barge into my office and act like you have rank to throw around. Have you forgotten who you are? Have you forgotten who I am? Do you need a reminder of your place?”
His bleary eyes flick to Monroe.
“Or maybe we need to finish this once and for all. The job you failed to complete.”
I step forward, inserting myself between them. “I know it was you. You’ve known all along.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Jin-tae,” he snarls, spittle flying. “But my patience has run out. Enough foolishness. Kill her now, or there will be repercussions.”
My lips curl into something like a cruel smile. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out about the Bulgeomhoe? That you hired them to sabotage me?”
His face twists, reddening even more. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You had them torch my apartment. You had them come after Monroe this afternoon.”
“The Bulgeomhoe and the Baekho are mortal enemies !” he bellows. “How dare you believe we would form an alliance—and for what? You? Ha! You overestimate your importance, you arrogant bastard.”
I step closer again. “You’re a coward. A coward who won’t own up to his dirty deeds. So I’m going to make you.”
He stares at me like I’ve grown horns. “You really are crazy. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this ends now. I never hired the Bulgeomhoe.”
“No,” comes a calm yet scathing voice. “But I did.”
All three of us whip around, facing the door.
Seung-min stands in the doorway, a grotesque shell from the last time we met.
One of his eyes is swollen shut, the lid red and puffy, like old fruit left in the sun too long.
His jaw protrudes unnaturally, cocked to the side as though the bone has been permanently dislodged. His nose looks broken in two places.
But none of that stops his lips spreading into a crooked jackal’s grin.
Jae-hyun’s mouth drops open. “Seung-min? Nephew, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” snaps Seung-min as he steps fully into the room, “that I’m tired of waiting. Tired of watching you rot in that chair with a drink in one hand and your dick in the other. All you do is drink like a fish and watch porn films all day. You’re weak. You’ve made the Baekho Pa soft.”
Jae-hyun blinks, thrown by the accusations from his own nephew. “What have you done?”
“I’ve made decisions,” replies Seung-min, lifting a gun from the inside of his jacket. “Decisions that are best for me .”
He takes aim and squeezes the trigger all at once.
I grab Monroe to pull her down, but he wasn’t aiming for either of us. His bullet cracks through the air and hits its intended target—his Uncle Jae-hyun, the Baekho-je himself, his head jerking back as the bullet blows half his face off.