Chapter 9 Elise #2
“Fuck off!” I scream breathlessly as I cut a corner and sprint into the back of the store.
It’s dark and cold, with dust in the air and cobwebs everywhere.
“Argh!” I groan as I crash into some crates and send the tall stack tumbling down.
It works out in my favor, because as Gun follows blindly in my wake, he’s met with splintered pieces of wood flying in every direction.
I catch his grunt of pain as I make it to the back door and then out into the next alleyway.
I immediately discover it’s a mistake—the alley is a dead end, brick walls rising on three sides like a prison cell that boxes you in.
Dread sinks into me as I realize I’ve trapped myself.
When I spin around, Gun is already there, blocking the only exit with his broad frame. His gun is drawn as he aims the weapon at me.
Blood trickles down the side of his head from where the wooden crates caught him, every breath he releases ragged and heavy.
They match my own. I’m panting for air, breathless after our cat-and-mouse game.
We both look like hell—clothes torn, skin scraped raw from glass and brick, sweat mixing with dirt and blood.
My side aches as I shut out the pain and focus on what I know is coming.
There’s no way out that doesn’t involve fighting Gun.
He seems to reach the same conclusion, his lips curving into that infuriating grin. “All I want is a kiss, Goyangi. I’ll even put the gun away. See?”
He slides the pistol back into its holster, holding up both hands to show me he’s now supposedly harmless. He starts toward me with slow steps, his confident air revealing he thinks he’s won.
But he still hasn’t realized I’m never one to go down without a fight.
I launch myself at him, fists and feet flying in a combination of strikes that would drop most men in seconds.
…most men except Rhee Gun-woo.
His reflexes are sharp and near-superhuman. His forearms come up to block my punches while he dodges any kicks with equal ease.
When I snap my leg up toward his ribs, he catches my ankle and uses my own momentum to swing me sideways into the brick wall.
The impact drives every ounce of air from my lungs and sends fresh agony radiating through my tender ribs.
I drop to my knees despite myself, coughing and gasping from the pain. The alleyway wavers like there’s been an earthquake, but it’s really my vision.
I shake my head in hopes of reorienting myself.
If Gun really wanted to, he could finish me off right now.
I’m on my knees, knocked breathless from the collision with the brick wall, and completely unable to defend myself in this moment.
But it seems that’s not his goal at all. At least not before he gets more gloating out of the way.
He crouches down in front of me and tips my head up, his fingers gentle under my chin. I’m forced to meet his dark, glittering eyes.
“You’re too pretty to be so nasty,” he taunts, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone like we’re lovers. “A beautiful woman like you, you should be on some man’s arm living the high life. Not doing this kind of violent work, Goyangi—”
I cut off his patronizing bullshit by driving the heel of my palm straight into his throat, feeling the satisfying give of cartilage as he chokes and topples backward. Scrambling to my feet, I take off for the alley entrance.
Unfortunately, I don’t make it very far.
His hand closes around my ankle like a steel trap and gives a harsh yank. I’m sent crashing face-first into the pavement.
If my ribs weren’t fractured before tonight, they definitely are now.
The pain has almost become unbearable, twinging more intensely than ever.
But there’s still no time to pause and rest. Not until this is really over.
Me and Gun surge to our feet at the same moment. We circle each other like wounded animals, our chests heaving and sweat dripping from our faces.
This time we attack simultaneously, a blur of fists and fury that echoes in the night. I land a vicious kick to his stomach that doubles him over, but he recovers fast enough to catch my next punch in his large hand.
Before I can wrench free, he uses his grip to yank me against him, his arms wrapping around me with bruising force.
His mouth crashes down on mine in a kiss that tastes coppery like blood, salty like sweat, and heated like the dark passion and desire that’s developed between us.
Gun kisses me with desperate hunger, his lips demanding and all-consuming. His tongue quickly slips into my mouth and slides against my own. He draws responses out of me that I don’t want to give, coaxing sounds from my throat that are needy and hoarse.
Every sweep of his tongue and nip of his teeth makes my stomach flutter with butterflies I have no damn business feeling.
I should push him away. I should shove him off me and break this hold he has.
Yet instead I find myself melting into the heat of his kiss. My body betrays me as I kiss him back and my pussy throbs in want.
He’s satiating a craving I’ve denied from the moment we first met in Eclipse.
I’m just as attracted to Gun as he is to me.
He tastes like danger and violence, and it only makes me want more of him. It only makes me surrender to the punishing lash of his tongue and long for what else he could give me…
His arms tighten around me, one hand gripping my braids while the other spreads across my lower back. He holds me so close I can feel every ridge of muscle through his shirt. Even the rapid beat of his heart.
The kiss deepens until I’m drowning in him, lost in the way he claims my mouth like he owns it.
Like he just can’t help himself—he has to have me here and now in the middle of our vicious fight.
But then reality crashes back in like ice water splashed in my face. I remember who he is, what he represents, why I’m supposed to hate him.
With a surge of adrenaline-fueled clarity, I rip my mouth away from his and drive my forehead straight into his skull.
The impact sends shockwaves through my own head, but Gun’s reaction is immediate and devastating—a howl of agony that’s so guttural and raw it actually shocks me for a second.
He falls back, both hands clutching his head. Pure torment tears from his throat, the agonized sounds echoing in the alley.
He’s in intense pain. He’s in much more pain than most would feel on the receiving end of a headbutt.
He writhes on the ground like I’ve triggered some kind of serious injury. I’ve exacerbated some kind of pre-existing ailment or wound he has without even knowing it.
Part of me wants to stay, to make sure he’s not seriously hurt, but survival instinct overrides everything else.
Me, myself, and I.
He’s my enemy. I can’t stop and help him. It’s more important that I get the hell out of here.
I turn and take off, disappearing into the maze that’s Seocho District’s back alleys while Gun’s cries of pain echo behind me.
The escape through Seocho District feels like a fever dream, my body moving on autopilot past every narrow street and flickering neon sign.
By the time I reach the subway station, my legs shake from exhaustion and the adrenaline crash.
It’s become hard to breathe thanks to the fresh battering my ribs have taken.
The train ride back to Itaewon passes in a blur of fluorescent lights and empty seats. There’re even fewer passengers than usual even given the late hour.
I catch glimpses of my reflection in the darkened windows—torn clothes, blood dried on my brow, bruises spreading along my collarbone, braids scattered about my shoulders and baby hairs frizzing up. I quickly look away, pretending I didn’t notice.
The few other passengers on the train give me a wide berth, probably assuming I’m just another casualty of Seoul’s nightlife gone wrong.
When the train finally pulls into Itaewon Station, I drag myself up from the plastic seat and shuffle toward the doors like a woman twice my age.
The platform is nearly deserted, just a few stragglers making their way home from whatever late-night adventures brought them here. I trudge up the stairs one at a time.
All I can think about is the scalding hot shower waiting for me in my apartment. The water will feel so good as it washes away the blood and sweat and grime.
…and the lingering taste of Gun’s mouth on mine.
My bed seems like a distant paradise with its soft sheets and pillows. I’ll throw myself down and won’t get up again for another eight hours at least—
The hand that grabs me comes out of nowhere, dragging me sideways into the mouth of a side alley. It happens so suddenly and so aggressively I’m not able to react in my already fatigued state.
I’m sent tumbling down onto the grimy pavement. Yet another collision for my tender ribs to absorb.
A second passes before I’m able to process what the hell’s happened.
When I finally manage to focus, there’s a man standing over me with a nasty grin twisted onto his ugly face. He’s huge and broad, the kind of build that’s perfect for an enforcer.
My blood runs cold.
That’s exactly what he is, the muscles and tattoos alerting me to the fact that he’s a Jeokpa for the Cheongryong. He’s one of their foot soldiers.
“So it’s true,” he sneers. “Black Silk isn’t a man after all.”