Chapter 24 Elise
TWENTY-FOUR
ELISE
Rhee Tae-hwan collapsed like a lie finally unraveling. All I can do is stare in shock for the second that follows, so thrown by the turn of events that it doesn’t feel real.
Yet every word he said before he went down feels like it was—it feels like the truth being exposed after so many years buried.
Gun doesn’t move a muscle either. He’s frozen by the same level of shock as I am, staring at his father like he can’t believe what’s happened.
And then the second ends and we both launch into action.
I rush forward at the same moment Gun does from the other side of the desk. He drops to his knees beside his father’s body while I stand over him and pull out my phone to call emergency services.
“Appa, wake up,” Gun urges. He’s rolled him onto his back and placed his fingers at the pulse point on his throat. “Come on, stay with us.”
“Does he still have a pulse?” I ask.
Gun’s grim expression answers my question for me. He gives a slow shake of his head, fingers lingering against his father’s throat. “There isn’t one.”
I pick up the soju bottle he had poured from and take a deep inhale. The alcohol burns my nostrils, but there’s no other scent to it—no bitter chemical tang that would hint at a foreign substance.
“No scent, which likely means there isn’t a taste either. It’s dissolved perfectly with the soju,” I explain. “It was likely Aconitine. It’s what we use at the agency for jobs that need to look like natural causes.”
Gun’s eyes narrow in suspicion, his jaw hardened. “Who would have done this?”
My mind races through possibilities, each one somewhat plausible. Could KD have planted the poison before his death? It wouldn’t be out of the question for the agency to have backup plans like that—multiple fail-safes to ensure a target dies even if the primary operation goes sideways.
But then why would he have bothered with the engagement event at the Bellmare if he’d already arranged for Tae-hwan to be poisoned?
Goosebumps raise along my arms as a terrible realization starts to take shape.
My mind lands on the videotape Tae-hwan had been talking about moments before his death. It arrived yesterday and I never had a chance to watch it.
Now it seems like it might be the only way we’re ever going to get answers.
“We have to head back to the loft right now,” I blurt out.
Gun gives me a quizzical look, confusion furrowing his brows. “What are you talking about?”
“Your father was right about the videotape. He did send it to me yesterday—or by “a friend” as the package said—but I never got a chance to look at it. We don’t have a VCR and then the entire situation with the Bellmare happened and KD died and—”
“Slow down,” Gun interrupts, rising to his feet. “Explain what’s on the tape.”
“Security camera footage of my father’s murder. Your father was there, but if he didn’t kill him. I think—” I have to pause for a hard swallow in order to force the words out. “I think the same person who killed my father just killed yours.”
Recognition dawns on Gun’s face. “In the flashback I just had, there was a third pair of legs that walked into the room. And you were there too… hiding under the table with me.”
“Then we need to get to that tape. It might be the only evidence left.”
“Let’s go.”
We rush out of the office, ignoring the outraged shouting from the household staff as we sprint toward his car.
As we reach the doors on either side, a high-pitched scream echoes from inside the estate—one of the maids must’ve discovered the body.
Gun drives with urgency through Seoul’s afternoon traffic. We make it to Pangyo in under twenty minutes.
But we realize our hustling is a waste of time. As we race into the building and up to the floor the loft is on, we find the front door cracked open.
Someone’s been inside.
Gun draws his weapon and motions for me to stay behind him as he nudges the door open with his foot. We enter cautiously, scanning for any signs of an intruder, but the apartment appears empty.
Nobody’s here, and whoever was is long gone.
I rush to the TV console where I’d left the videotape yesterday, but it’s nowhere to be found.
“Shit, the tape’s gone!” I yell, panic hammering fast in my heart. “Someone broke in and took it!”
Gun reappears a moment later, returning from his sweep of the rest of the loft. He holsters his gun and comes up on my side. “The rest of the place is clear. Which means whoever came by only had one thing in mind. Getting their hands on that tape.”
“I’ve had enough.” I pull out my phone and pull up my contact list. I press the name as soon as I see it come up.
Director Hart’s line rings several times before she answers. Her greeting is as curt and matter-of-fact as always.
“Hart.”
Even the sound of her voice makes me burn with anger. I get straight to the point even more than she does. “Who’s the client for Operation 1025?”
Silence stretches across the connection, so long I wonder if the call has dropped. Then she speaks as if she’s decided the best approach to answering.
“Agent Silk—”
“It’s Elise,” I interrupt sharply. “Elise Jamie Quinn. I quit when you removed me from the mission, remember? And I damn sure know you remember what my real name is. I have my father’s name, Director. Jamie Quinn.”
“I knew your father well so no lectures necessary on who you are. Your father wanted the best for you and had high hopes and expectations. I’m sure he would be glad to hear that you’ve followed in his—”
“Stop patronizing me about my father,” I snap, pacing back and forth. The fury builds in my chest like steam in a pressure cooker. “You know who killed him, don’t you? Because you helped keep it a secret.”
Director Hart goes silent half a second, then releases the hollowest laugh I’ve ever heard. “Agent Silk, you have no idea what—”
“It’s fucking Elise Jamie Quinn and you’ve lied to me this entire time!
” I explode. “You lied to KD this entire time. You never cared about me avenging my father by eliminating Rhee Tae-hwan. In fact, you probably thought of it as a convenient joke. This was only ever about the money, wasn’t it?
The weapons dealings from twenty years ago that you were profiting off of? You and my uncle.”
For the first time since I’ve known her, Director Hart stammers.
“I was… I was simply following a client’s request. It’s my duty as director to—”
“Shut the fuck up!” I snarl into the phone. “You’re lucky there’s an ocean between us right now, or I would slit your throat and watch you bleed out, director.”
I hang up on her before she can get another word in. I rush through the loft toward the bedroom, an urgency in driving my pulse to beat faster.
Gun follows close behind, confusion and concern written across his features.
“What the hell is it?” he asks as I drop to my knees beside his dresser.
I pull open the bottom drawer where the stack of old photos sits like buried secrets waiting to be unearthed.
My fingers shake as I rifle through them until I find the one I’m looking for—the gala photo from twenty years ago that shows my father and Tae-hwan standing together, smiling jovially like the best friends they once were.
But now I see the photo differently than I had the first time I’d found it in Gun’s drawer. Uncle Jerald sits alone in the background clutching a soju bottle, his expression sullen and moody.
His gaze, like everyone else’s, is on Dad and Tae-hwan, but it’s not with the same kind of festive warmth as the others.
“My father and your father never betrayed each other,” I whisper, barely audible. “They were both betrayed. And the man who betrayed them was my uncle.”
Gun leans in close to study the photograph, his dark eyes scanning every detail as understanding dawns across his features. “That would make the most sense. It would explain why my father said what he did and why he spared you at the hotel. Why he even sent the tape in the first place.”
I nod, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place with sickening clarity. “It would also explain why my uncle spent my whole life feeding me a story about how my dad had trusted so blindly but been betrayed. He had been betrayed… by him.”
“You didn’t realize the kind of manipulation he was doing. He was your guardian and groomed you to believe what he told you to.”
Even though I know what Gun says is true, it still leaves me questioning how I couldn’t see it sooner. How it’s taken me so long to realize Uncle Jerald was never looking out for me; he was never out for my best interests.
This was all about him and what he could do to benefit most.
“He was in partnership with my dad. They ran the arms scheme together, selling to syndicates like the Cheongryong. But whereas my dad and yours became friends, Uncle Jerald must’ve been the third wheel.
The odd man out in the situation. My dad was the real brains behind the operation—Unc has admitted that himself while I was growing up. ”
Gun turns and starts for the door. “You know what we have to do now, don’t you?”
I clutch the photograph and follow him out of the room.
“He’s not getting away with this. He must’ve saw.
He was over the loft that afternoon. Maybe he came by to intercept it but I grabbed the package first. So he had to go to the backup.
Poison Tae-hwan to keep him quiet. Which means he probably knows Tae-hwan’s dead by now and that we’re onto him. ”
Once outside, Gun leads us to his sports bike instead of the car, the sleek machine gleaming in Seoul’s late afternoon sun. The sky is starting to tinge gold around the edges, bathing the city in warm light.
Yet everything feels cold to the touch. The evidence of decades-old betrayal in the photograph I’m holding onto and the icy chill that’s frozen my insides.
Everyone always says anger and fury are fiery emotions. They’re blazing heat and scalding flames.
But as I mount Gun’s bike and we blast off into Seoul’s urban streets, it’s cold that most intensely describes how I feel.
It’s in the arctic air that’s infected my lungs and made it hard to breathe. The quiet pulse of the ice in my veins that makes me question if I’m still human. And the polar chill that’s glazed over me and left me not fuming mad but calmly furious.
Scarily peaceful as we race off and I fantasize about finally getting the revenge that’s twenty years in the making.
“Hold on tight,” Gun reminds, glancing briefly over his shoulder.
We traverse the streets in Pangyo and make our way over to Hannam-dong, a quiet and upscale residential area where businessmen and diplomats alike maintain their elegant homes behind high walls and manicured gardens.
The villa that belongs to Uncle Jerald sits at the end of a tree-lined street, its traditional Korean architecture hiding modern luxury behind its understated facade.
We pull up at the curb, Gun’s legs dropping from the foot pegs. I’ve already hopped off, sprinting straight for his front door. He catches up only a second later as I’ve started banging a fist to the door.
“Open up, you lying piece of shit! I know the truth now!”
Gun reaches for his weapon. “We might have to force our way in.”
I step back to let him blast the lock when a man calls out to us from the lawn next door. He’s a middle-aged Korean man in a track suit that does little to hide his belly. He’s eyeing us in obvious concern, his brow creased.
It’s probably not every day a dangerous mafia boss and deadly assassin turn up in his neighborhood.
“If you’re looking for Jerald Quinn, he left just minutes ago with his suitcases,” he explains in Korean.
“Do you know where he was headed?”
The man shakes his head apologetically. “He only said he would be gone for a while. Seemed to be in quite a hurry.”
“Incheon International Airport,” I say to Gun’s nod. We race back toward his idling bike. “He’s trying to skip town before we can get to him.”
“We’ll see about that, feline. Get on.”
We take off even faster than before, the engine roaring as Gun squeezes the throttle and we bullet through the city.
I hold tight to Gun’s waist, feeling the vibration of powerful machine we’re riding on. My thick braids whip through the air like heavy dark ribbons.
We break every speed limit law in South Korea, running more red lights than I can count. None of it matters now—all that does is catching Uncle Jerald before he disappears forever.
We arrive at ICN in record-breaking time, the bike’s tires screeching against the pavement as Gun brings us to a stop outside the departure terminal. We leap off and start sprinting through the airport’s atrium.
It’s packed with crowds of travelers clutching their tickets and suitcases. Many of them in line to check in their bags.
We cut them all at the Korea Air desk, pushing our way to the front of the line and ignoring their indignant protests.
“We need to know if there’s a man named Jerald Quinn on any of your flights,” I demand, breathless from our sprint.
The woman behind the counter looks startled by our urgency, her professional smile faltering. “I’m sorry, but I can’t give out passenger information—”
Gun lifts his shirt sleeve and flashes the blue dragon tattoo that winds around his forearm, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper as he speaks to her in rapid Korean.
“You do this for us or I will have my men visit you and your family tonight. It will be your last evening together.”
The woman gasps, her face going pale as she looks between Gun’s brutal expression and my impatient one. Whatever she sees convinces her we’re not messing around, because she quickly turns to her computer and starts typing with trembling fingers.
“Jerald Quinn,” she murmurs, scanning the screen. “Flight 8055 departing in forty minutes to Shanghai. But you’re not allowed to—”
We’re already gone, racing through the terminal toward the security checkpoint where international departures are processed. The long lines of travelers move with frustrating slowness.
I scan the crowd, searching desperately for the familiar figure who’s been manipulating my life since childhood.
And then I spot him—Uncle Jerald standing in the security line about thirty people ahead, his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder and a boarding pass in hand.
As if sensing our presence, he glances over his shoulder, then does a double take when he realizes he’s not seeing things.
We’re really here and we’re about to make what’s left of his life a living hell.
His eyes widen with shock and fear as he seems to freeze up for a moment. Reality seems to crash back in and remind him he can’t stay put if he expects to survive.
He breaks into a run, shoving people aside as he abandons his place in line and bolts toward the nearest exit.