Chapter 12 - Elise #2
You’d think he actually cared about me with all the effort he’s put in. If I were naive and foolish, I’d certainly think so.
Still… the least I can do is let him live to see another day.
We’ll resume our feud another time, when the playing field is level and we’re both armed with more than borrowed clothes and lingering obligation.
I reach the door and wrap my fingers around the doorknob’s cool metal. I can already taste freedom on my tongue as I begin to turn it.
“Going somewhere?” Gun asks suddenly.
I whip around to find him sitting up on the couch, alert and focused. He’s not drowsy or sluggish at all, which tells me all I need to know.
“You were faking,” I accuse, eyes narrowing.
He laughs, the sound rich and taunting. “I heard the bedroom door creak and decided to test you. Thought it’d be fun to see how far you’d get before making your grand escape.”
Anger flares hot and bright as I grab the doorknob with both hands and wrench at it desperately.
It doesn’t twist or budge in the slightest.
Gun comes up behind me, looming like a shadow—tall, warm, impossibly close—and his larger hand covers mine on the metal.
The contact sends an unwelcome frisson of heat racing up my arm. My pulse quickens in response despite how irritated it makes me.
“You won’t be able to leave. The door locks from the outside as well as inside. You need a key... which only I have.” He leans even closer, his breath tickling the hair at my nape. “Face it, Goyangi-ne. You’re stuck with me. Now go back to bed. It’s barely light out.”
I duck out from under his overwhelming presence, putting several feet between us.
“If you want to turn me in to your overlords, then go ahead and do it already. I’d rather that than this fake recovery hospitality bullshit.”
“Who said I’m turning you in?” Gun asks, casually stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t decided what to do with you yet. And as you know, I’m my own person.”
My gaze drops to the vivid blue dragon tattoo that winds around his forearm, its scales catching the morning light. “That ink on your arm says differently.”
“So you have some personal vendetta against the Cheongryong. Is that it? That’s why you want us dead?”
“Mind your business,” I snap, but he’s already moving closer, that predatory grin spreading across his face.
“You’ll simply have to get your revenge another time,” he says with infuriating calm. “But for now—at minimum while you heal—we’re stuck with each other.”
“You don’t get to say what I do.”
“But I do so long as you’re in my custody, Goyangi. How about I give you the rundown of your temporary prison.” He gestures toward the kitchen with theatrical grandeur. “Cabinets and fridge are fully stocked—I keep it that way for the ladies. Midnight cravings, you know?”
“Ugh,” I gag out loud with a face of disgust.
He merely grins wider, enjoying our contentious exchange. “You’re free to roam the apartment, watch TV, make yourself at home. But I can’t let you leave or use any electronic devices. For obvious reasons.”
“I want my phone.”
“Locked away for safekeeping.” He’s closed in on me again, reaching out brazenly so he can touch my face. His fingertips graze my bruised cheek, the stroke quick and featherlight.
I have to fight not to flinch away from the unwanted contact. Despite how my pulse instantly responds, beating faster.
“I can’t wait until that pretty face heals completely,” he says. “Damn that bastard for marking it up like he did.”
“I take it that’s why you never struck me?” I ask.
He gives a haphazard shrug. “What can I say? I was taught never to hurt those weaker than me.”
I almost answer him until I remind myself he’s obviously trying to get under my skin. He’s saying the things he knows will piss me off.
It seems to amuse him the more he’s able to provoke me.
But I can’t play his game and give him what he wants. I merely glare at him, biting my tongue.
Gun moves away from me toward an end table where he snatches up a pill bottle and pops the lid. Two capsules disappear into his mouth before he heads to the kitchen to fill a glass with water.
I’m watching him closely, looking from where he stands in the kitchen to the pill bottle he’s left on the end table.
On the night we met, he had mentioned his medications in his hotel suite. I’d poured him some soju and he he’d opted not to drink it because he said he wasn’t supposed to on his meds.
It was a smart choice on his part—I was trying to poison him—but it’s a new piece of info I file away for later.
If I have to find a way to eliminate him despite his help last night, those little capsules might be exactly the opening I need.
My fingers drift to the chain around my neck, finding the familiar weight of my father’s ring where it rests against my collarbone. The metal is warm from my skin, a constant reminder of promises made and debts unpaid.
This is for you, Daddy.
Over the next twenty-four hours, I’m subjected to a torture like I’ve never before imagined—the inescapable presence of Rhee Gun-woo wherever I go.
I slip into the bathroom seeking a moment of privacy, and he’s there, standing at the mirror with a razor in hand as he trims his beard. The air smells like his expensive masculine cologne, making my stomach do unwelcome somersaults.
When I pad into the kitchen hoping for coffee and solitude, there he is at the small dining table, slurping up ramen with the enthusiasm of a man who hasn’t eaten in days. He looks up at me with those dark almond-shaped eyes that always flicker with amusement.
And as I seek out refuge in the living room, he’s already on the couch with the TV going.
Remote in hand and a bag of chips propped open, he roars with laughter at the Korean gameshow on the screen.
The contestants have fallen flat on their face on some obstacle course only to be drenched in green slime.
He notices me mid-laugh and scoots over on the sofa, patting the cushion next to him.
“Sit and watch. You’ll be hooked in no time,” he says. Then he holds up the bag of spicy tteokbokki chips. “Want some?”
I sigh and sink into the offered seat, reminding myself I’m stuck here anyway. I might as well stop pretending like I can avoid Gun, regardless of how I view him as an enemy.
He said it himself—so long as I’m here, it’s a stalemate.
The aluminum bag crinkles as I grab it and reach for a tteokbokki chip. Immediately, I realize it’s a mistake. Fire explodes across my tongue from the first bite.
I cough, choking on the heat, eyes watering. Try as I might to play it cool, I might as well have fucking steam coming out of my ears.
Gun merely smirks at my obvious distress before turning his attention back to the screen. Another hapless contestant is being doused in what appears to be chocolate syrup mixed with whipped cream.
A couple hours later, when I’ve finally retreated back to the bedroom, I overhear Gun through the apartment’s thin walls. He’s speaking in rapid Korean on what must be his phone.
He doesn’t realize I can understand him; Korean is just one of six different languages I speak. Linguistics is one of my specialties, having been a linguist in the Air Force, and it’s one of the reasons Vanguard pursued me for the agency.
He’s talking to someone familiar, who knows exactly where I am and why. The casual way he discusses my presence here, like I’m a temporary houseguest rather than a captive assassin, causes an uncomfortable ripple in my stomach.
I’m sitting on the bed left to my own devices. Earlier I snuck a wooden hanger from Gun’s wardrobe and have slowly transformed it into a shiv sharp enough to use as a weapon.
He might’ve stripped away my phone, daggers, and firearms, but I’m always one to improvise.
I’m almost finished when Gun’s footsteps pad down the hallway.
Shit, he’s coming this way!
I hurry to slide the shiv under my thigh just as he appears in the doorway.
“Time to change your bandages before bed,” he announces, medical supplies already in hand like he’s been planning this moment all day.
“Oh,” I say, eyebrows jumping. I clear my throat, hoping my expression is neutral enough. “Right… it’s been almost twenty-four hours.”
He comes over to settle beside me on the bed, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“You’re going to have to take your top off,” he says plainly, though a slight smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry, Goyangi-ne. I’ll behave myself.”
Still trying to play it cool, I give a small nod and do as he asks. I pull the borrowed t-shirt over my head and let it crumple to the floor.
I’m only in my sports bra.
There’s an uncertain second where neither of us moves, but I’m pretty sure we both feel the charge in the air.
Then, as if deciding it’s now or never, Gun tentatively reaches for me. His touch is gentle and cautious, like he really does want to make it clear he’s behaving himself.
His focus is changing my bandages and nothing else.
But that doesn’t stop the effect he immediately has on me. As soon as his fingers brush my bare skin, I’m left acutely aware of the shiver jolting down my spine.
My breath catches in a way that has nothing to do with the aches and pains and everything to do with how wonderful Gun’s touch is.
How good it feels to be touched by him.
Even in this context.
I’d noticed the same the night in the hotel suite. His kiss left my head spinning, and his hands felt so right on my body that I’d almost been distracted enough not to kill him.
But now it’s so much worse, somehow more intense despite how light his touches are.
He peels away the old gauze and examines the healing scrapes and cuts that map my torso like a roadmap of violence. He’s cautious navigating the bruises that have formed along my ribcage, cognizant of how tender I am in those places.
I try to remain unaffected, focusing on the weapon within easy reach and thinking about how this man is supposed to be my enemy.
I urge myself to do it—grab the shiv and drive it into his throat while he’s distracted by his medical care. He’s close enough that it would be easy.
One quick move and this entire complicated situation is over.
Seconds stretch like hours as I hover at a crossroads between survival and another complicated feeling I can’t name.
The wood feels warm under my thigh, ready to become the solution to all my problems.
But my hand won’t move; it remains frozen in place.
Finally, Gun pulls back with a satisfied grin, his handiwork complete. The grin is so confident and sexy it makes him even more attractive than I already find him. My heart flutters like it never has before.
“All done, Goyangi-ne,” he says, winking as he gathers up the used bandages. “You’ll be back to your true feline form in no time.”
As he rises from the bed and heads for the door, I remain perfectly still, fingers still wrapped around the shiv hidden under my thigh. I’m more confused than I’ve been in a long time, wondering what the hell that was.
It makes no sense, and I can’t begin to understand why.
For the first time in my life, I might be unable to kill someone I’m supposed to.