Chapter 26 Gun
TWENTY-SIX
GUN
The sirens whine louder, their piercing wails starting off at a distance and then growing louder and closer.
We’ve got to get the hell out of here.
Now.
I grab Elise’s hand and dash for the only door that’s an option. It’ll take us in the opposite direction from where the police and authorities are coming from.
Elise is half out of it from what just happened with Jerald. From watching me drop her uncle over the edge of the building where he fell to his death. Even after twenty years of lies and manipulation, it’s a lot to take in.
My shoulder throbs where the earlier gunshot wound has reopened, blood seeping through the fabric of my shirt.
But there’s no time to worry about pain when airport police are sprinting up the stairwell like water through a broken dam. Their voices bark orders in rapid Hangul, authoritative and urgent as they issue their warning.
Do not run! Surrender now.
“No time,” I pant, pulling Elise with me. We turn down a maintenance hallway that leads deeper into the building’s service areas. “We’ve got to make ourselves disappear.”
Tearing down the back corridors at a desperate speed, our footsteps clatter off the industrial walls. Emergency lights flash bright and bathe everything in a harsh neon-red tint.
Elise shakes beside me, less composed and put-together. She’s following my lead right now, trusting in me to find us a way out.
Another flight of stairs takes us down to lower level, where luggage carts and utility vehicles clutter the space.
The air down here smells like jet fuel and industrial cleaning supplies, heavy with the kind of chemical stench that burns your nostrils and clogs your throat.
Through the maze of equipment and machinery, I spot salvation: a delivery gate in the distance, marked with signs in both Hangul and English that promise access to the service roads beyond the terminal’s secure perimeter.
“That’s our way out,” I say against the backdrop of whirring sirens and alarms.
Any second this corridor could be flooded by authorities. We’ve got to get a move on.
We stumble out of the gate still hand in hand, heaving air into our lungs while not daring to slow down.
At a distance, the emergency vehicles storming onto the scene are in view. They’re clogging up the service road with their flashing lights and wailing sirens.
But we still have a small window to flee the scene in time. I scan the area for anything drivable.
Anything that can get us the hell away from here.
“What about that?” Elise asks, pointing to our left.
It’s a courier-style motorcycle left running near the rear terminal gate. The owner’s probably been called away by the commotion or ordered to evacuate the area. The vehicle sits only a couple feet away like a gift from whatever gods protect criminals and lovers on the run.
In the moment it doesn’t matter as we dash toward the bike, its engine purring with barely contained power.
As soon as it’s within reach, I’m throwing a leg over the seat and yelling at Elise to get on.
“Elise! Now!”
She doesn’t hesitate either—just wraps her arms around my waist with the kind of trust that speaks to how far we’ve come.
How much we’ve come to trust and rely on each other like we never imagined.
Her body presses against my back as I gun the throttle and we shoot forward through the airport infrastructure.
The pressure is suffocating: barricades blocking every obvious exit, emergency vehicles creating mobile roadblocks, sirens chasing us from all directions while helicopters overhead sweep the area with searchlights.
We might as well be trapped in a fucking video game where every route leads to a dead end and the level difficulty keeps increasing with each passing second.
Soon it’ll be game over for us both.
“Left!” Elise shouts over the strong gusts of wind pushing back against us. “There’s a maintenance tunnel!”
I lean the bike hard around cargo trucks and service vehicles, following her guidance. We dive into a narrow concrete passage, the walls whizzing by in gray blurs as we break our line of sight with the authorities after us.
The tunnel amplifies every sound—engine echoes, tire squeals, the distant wail of sirens that can’t pinpoint our location anymore.
When we emerge back into open air, I merge onto the expressway heading toward central Seoul, the city’s neon lights glowing in the distance.
They beckon us like a promise of safety.
But real safety is still miles away. The radio chatter from the courier’s bike crackles with updates that make nerves roil inside my stomach.
“Suspects heading eastbound. Air unit tracking.”
I weave through traffic almost to the point of recklessness, cutting between semi-trucks and late-evening commuters who have no idea they’re witnessing a high-speed chase.
The bike responds to every subtle shift of my weight, every twist of the throttle, like an extension of my own body as we slice through Seoul’s arteries.
We encounter yet another sign we’re not in the clear yet—up ahead is a drawbridge starting to lift for its scheduled late-evening maintenance, the two halves of the roadway beginning their slow separation like a mouth opening to swallow us whole.
“GUN, NO!” Elise screams once she realizes what I’m thinking. Her arms tighten around my middle, becoming even more viselike. She’s pressing herself against my back like she wishes she could vanish on the spot.
“HOLD ON!” I roar over the engine.
I’ve already made the decision. There’s no going back. Either this single choice of mine is going to save us or kill us both.
I accelerate hard, the engine vibrating with a surge of power that presses us both back against the seat.
The gears shift as the speedometer needle climbs past any reasonable safety limit.
The bridge is almost halfway up now, creating a gap that grows wider with each passing second.
But time seems to slow as physics and momentum carry us toward what might be our deaths.
The motorcycle leaves the edge of the bridge in a moment that feels suspended outside reality—we’re airborne, flying through Seoul’s twilight sky with nothing but empty space beneath us and the distant lights of the city spreading out like a circuit board made of stars.
My jaw is locked so tight I might crack my teeth steering us toward the other side. Elise is screaming as I do, her arms clinched around my waist.
Gravity quickly asserts its claim on our bodies, pulling us downward.
The landing is painfully hard, rattling us to our core as we touch down on solid ground again.
We’ve hit the opposite end of the bridge with bone-jarring impact that sends the courier motorcycle skidding sideways across asphalt.
For a crazed and uncertain moment, I’m sure we’re going to lose control completely and go sliding off the side of the bridge.
Then the tires gain enough traction, and I’m able to straighten us out.
Still moving. Still alive. Still free.
Elise clutches me tighter, her breathing ragged against my back. “You’re fucking insane, Rhee.”
I bark out a laugh. “What does it say that you’re with me, Goyangi? You’re alive, aren’t you?”
That’s all that matters now that we’ve come out on the other side of an impossible gap.
We’re both breathing. We’re both in one piece.
I make us disappear into the city streets, winding through side streets and narrow alleyways until we’re able to ditch the courier motorcycle and then blend in with crowds.
There’s a local chop-shop-style garage tucked away off a main street that’s loosely associated with the Cheongryong.
I take us inside and borrow a clunker of a sedan that’s seen better decades but still runs reliably enough to get us where we need to go. The owner asks no questions and accepts no payment beyond the understanding that certain favors may be called in later.
Elise wipes blood from my temple with gentle fingers as we buckle up and I turn the key in the ignition.
“It might be time for us to go incognito for a while,” I say, grabbing hold of her hand.
I bring the back of it to my lips for a kiss.
“Get out of Seoul and make ourselves disappear. There’s a smaller airport we can arrange a private flight from.
Just for a few weeks ’til shit blows over.
They didn’t get a good look at us, and if they do narrow down our identities, the Cheongryong can bribe them. ”
She nods, understanding what I’m suggesting. “I think… we need that after everything that’s gone down.”
We drive off into the Seoul night, disappearing into a city that’s always been good at hiding secrets, leaving behind the sirens and the lights and the weight of twenty years’ worth of lies.
Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together—no longer enemies. Just the lovers we’ve become.