Chapter 30
THIRTY
ELISE
It’s early afternoon when I turn up on a quiet street in Gangnam. I’m headed toward the small office sandwiched between a boutique law firm and an out-of-business bookshop. I sip from my latte once I’ve reached the front door, fishing for my ring of keys and letting myself in.
The place smells like new. It might as well be after the renovations that have been made—the entire building was gutted and replaced with a new layout.
Everything I would need for my work.
From the street, the place looks like a nondescript office. On the inside, there’s everything from an armory to a tactical planning room, and, of course, perks like the luxury espresso station.
That last one is still being installed.
But the reception area is simplistic but stylish. Monochromatic blues and grays paired with tasteful Scandinavian furniture.
I wanted the office to reflect the services I offer—straight to business, no chaser.
I set down my purse and pull a file to review when the front door chimes.
A man enters like he’s second guessing himself.
Late forties. Expensive suit. Widow’s peak.
His eyes dart both ways before settling on me. He’s nervous but trying not to show it. They always are, the first time.
“Uh… is this—?”
“Yes, it is.”
“And you’re—”
“I am. I take it you’re Mr. Yun?” I gesture to the chair across from the reception desk. “Have a seat.”
He does as he’s told, hands folding in his lap like a schoolboy called to the principal’s office.
I slide the file across the table, watching his face as he scans the contents.
“Terms are simple. Payment upfront. No collateral damage. If you agree, we move forward. If not, walk away and we never had this conversation.”
He swallows hard, then nods. “When can you start?”
“I already have.”
“And… and it will be taken care of? No traces back to me?”
“What do you think collateral damage means, Mr. Yun?” I ask, arching a brow. “It won’t ever be traced back to you. The Dokkaebi Pa will have no idea you sought… outside help.”
He nods several more times, releasing a nervous laugh. “Okay… that sounds… that’s what I hoped for.”
“Then sign on the dotted line. The payment information is in the brochure I just gave you. Wire the money, and once it’s received, the job will be completed. No fuss, no muss.”
The deal is sealed with a handshake and a wire transfer.
After he leaves, I disappear into my private office and spend a couple hours working on the case I’ve just accepted.
It’s the perfect conditions for someone like me who prefers to work alone.
If I ever need any assistance, I have a handful of sources I can—and sometimes do—reach out to.
Including the sexy man idling by the curb on his sports bike.
When I’m done working for the afternoon, I head outside and find Gun waiting across the street. He’s leaning against his motorcycle with that natural casual posture and crooked grin of his.
Somehow he manages to look both dangerous and relaxed in his dark jeans and sunglasses, his hair ruffled by the wind.
“How’d it go?” he asks when I reach him.
“Same as always. They are always so paranoid at first, then practically beg for help.”
His grin widens, handing me the spare helmet. “You love it.”
“Getting to choose what jobs I take on is definitely a perk.” I slide on the helmet and fasten the buckle. “Where are we going?”
“It’s obviously a surprise, Goyangi.” He swings his leg over the bike, starting the engine with a low rumble. “Trust me?”
I slide on behind him, arms wrapping around his waist. “Unfortunately.”
His laugh vibrates through his chest as we pull into traffic. The city blurs past us—buildings, pedestrians, other cars on the road.
These are the same streets I used to stalk when out on a mission doing what I had to do. Though I’m still in the same line of work, becoming my own boss and running my own agency has given it new meaning.
I offer private investigation services, and sometimes—on a rare occasion when the situation requires it—I slip into my old assassin role.
Sometimes with backing and assistance from Gun and the Cheongryong.
My new role isn’t clean, not by a long shot.
But it’s mine. It’s my work, and I’m damn proud of doing it on my own terms.
We ride through Seoul for so long I lose track of what district we’re even in. I’ve learned to enjoy rides on Gun’s motorcycle without giving it much thought.
Something I never thought I do. But I trust him implicitly, and it’s a relief being with a man who I feel comfortable giving up some control to.
Even strong women want a strong man to lead sometimes.
Gun cuts the engine on a tree-lined street I don’t recognize, somewhere on the outskirts of the city where old money live tucked behind tall gates and manicured hedges. He helps me off the bike, his hand lingering at my waist.
“Where are we?” I ask, pulling off the helmet.
“You’ll see.”
He leads me down a narrow path, branches forming a canopy overhead. The light filters through in golden patches, dappling the ground like scattered coins.
It’s quiet where we are, a sudden hush falling over us.
We round a corner to a path that opens into a small private garden.
And there, in the center, stands a monument I’ve never seen before.
My breath stalls in my lungs.
It’s simple in design—minimalist stone, clean lines, no ornate decoration. But carved into the surface are two names that make my chest tighten:
Jamie Quinn
Rhee Tae-hwan
Brothers in Arms. Lost Too Soon.
I stand frozen, staring at the stone like it might disappear if I blink.
My dad’s name, carved in stone. Not forgotten or buried in grisly police files but here.
Real.
Acknowledged in the city he’d made a life in.
“They deserved the truth,” Gun says quietly beside me. “Not the lie that destroyed them.”
I move forward on autopilot, fingers reaching out to trace the letters of Dad’s name. The stone is cool and solid against my palm, strangely soothing in a way.
“You did this?” I croak.
“For you. For them.”
I turn for a look at him and find no smugness in his expression.
No expectation of gratitude.
Just steady love and care, like building a monument to honor our dead fathers was the most natural thing in the world.
Suddenly, the only natural response bubbles up inside me. It flutters in my chest and rolls off my tongue.
“I love you,” I whisper.
The first time I’ve said those words since… I can’t even remember. Probably sometime in childhood to Dad.
Gun’s eyes soften, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Say it again.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“Say it again, Goyangi-ne.”
I’m so lost on his reaction that his grin widens and he pulls me close, pressing a light kiss to my temple.
“Just once more,” he murmurs against my hairline. “So I know I didn’t imagine it.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet you love me. Which means you’re stuck with me, feline. ”
I lean into him, forehead resting against his shoulder, eyes moist but not from grief or pain.
More so the certainty that we really have paved our own way.
We really have overcome the darkness plaguing our fathers and found the light.
Night falls before long. Gun and I return to the loft in Pangyo, the city lights twinkling bright even on such a dark autumn night.
I’m barely through the door by the time Gun kicks off his boots, already rolling up his sleeves as he heads toward the kitchen.
“You’re cooking?” I ask, dropping onto the couch and watching him move from the fridge to the stove.
“Don’t sound so shocked. You know I like keeping you fed.”
“I thought we’d order in.”
“No way. Tonight’s too special, Goyangi-ne.”
“Okay. Then call me your assistant. Just so long as I don’t have to do anything stove-related.”
He laughs and then gestures to the pile of vegetables on the counter. “Then get to cutting. Use those assassin knife skills.”
Before long, Gun has the kitchen—and the rest of the loft—smelling like spices and savory pork belly.
We manage to come together to create a traditional Korean dish known as Bossam, the veggies I’ve cut actually pairing well with the main course. We pair it with egg and kimchi fried rice, and soon we’re digging in at the table.
“What’s the verdict?” he asks as I take my first bite.
I’ve already gone for a second, swallowing my mouthful. “One day your culinary skills are going to rub off on me.”
“I might have to give you cooking lessons. In the buff.”
“Stop it!” I laugh, shaking my head. “We are NOT getting freaky in the kitchen!”
“Why not? There’re so many options. We have a whole bottle of honey, Goyangi-ne.” He wiggles his brows in his usual teasing manner and almost makes me choke on my bite of pork belly.
It’s one of the things I appreciate most about Gun—he can add humor and playfulness to just about any situation.
Something I didn’t know I secretly craved until now.
After we’re done stuffing our faces and the dishes are abandoned in the sink, Gun puts some slow R&B on the TV.
He dims the lights and holds his hand out to me. My brows raise in question, but I let him take hold of me.
“Dance with me,” he says.
“You mean like the first time?”
“Exactly like the first time. Except this time, you’re not planning to kill me.”
“Bold assumption.”
He pulls me close in the middle of our loft. His palm settles at the small of my back, fingers splaying possessively. My arms loop around his neck, my gaze on him.
We start swaying together to the music, barefoot on hardwood with the city glittering beyond the windows like scattered stars.
It really does mirror that night we met at Eclipse—the chemistry and closeness between our bodies.
The way the rest of the world seems to fall away as we focus on each other.
On that dance floor it was fire and passion. But tonight it’s that and more.
It’s us together like we never imagined would be possible. Just him and me swaying to the music and savoring the fact we’ve found each other.
I rest my cheek against his shoulder, breathing him in. “We made it.”
“We did. It was one hell of a crazy ride, though. Including the parts where you threw a knife at me.”
“And when you shoved that pipe down that guy’s throat. Very romantic.”
“He had the audacity to touch you, Goyangi. I should’ve made him suffer more. No one touches my feline but me.”
I smirk and tip my head up for a kiss he more than happily gives me.
We dance like this ’til the song ends and another one begins, trading kisses and making each other laugh.
It’s more than I ever could’ve imagined. A happiness that reminds me even enemies can fall in love.
THE END