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Now the big, bad tiger has trapped her in a snare, and she doesn’t know what to do with herself.

“You waited until my mother left,” she says quietly, her tone a notch above a whisper.

“She is not wanted by the Baekho Pa.Youare.”

I stick my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket and give an indifferent shrug. I step into her room like I’m appraising the place. My gaze scales up and down her walls covered with humble little pieces of scenic artwork and some posters of her favorite books and movies.

Then I glance at the top of her dresser, where she keeps some of her possessions, like a little jewelry box and a stack of books and row of differently shaped perfume bottles.

I’ve been inside her apartment before, of course.

But it’s entertaining to admire her things right in front of her face.

As she’s powerless to stop me.

She doesn’t even try as I step over to the window, where a delicate peace lily plant sits on the ledge.

On her bedside table is a small square lamp with a linen shade. An empty glass of water is beside it, along with thelatest book she’s been reading—The White Bookby Han Kang, a collection of short stories exploring grief and loss.

It’s a well-known piece of recent Korean literature that’s been translated into many languages.

My curiosity piqued, I reach for the book, picking it up and turning it over to the back.

Monroe edges around me for every move I make, keeping distance if it seems like I’ll come too close. As I step toward the bedside table, she reflexively steps to the right to maintain the eight or so feet that separate us, watching me as close as any dangerous wild animal.

“I hope you enjoyed your time with her,” I say of her mother. “I’m sure she appreciated seeing her daughter one last time.”

One last time.

The menacing words hang in the air between us.

Monroe can’t hide the shuddery breath she takes this time. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I ask, darkly amused. I set down the book and turn to face her again.

“For letting me see my mother before…” She can’t bring herself to finish that sentence.

“Monroe, you have the wrong idea,” I say coldly, my top lip curling slightly. “I did not spare your mother or let you live to see her out of mercy. It was not out of the kindness of my heart. There is no kindness, no mercy to be found. Don’t set yourself up for disappointment by expecting differently.”

“Then… then…” She sighs, shaking her head like she can’t understand. “Then why did you spare me that night? Why did to let me go?”

It’s a fair fucking question that I can’t exactly answer.

The truth is that I originally didn’t intend to kill her. I wanted to spook her. Scare the shit out of her so she knew never to mention what she saw in that alleyway ever again.

The Baekho-je has ordered otherwise.

But I can never tell her that. She doesn’t need to know about the inner workings of the Baekho Pa.

As far as she’s concerned, it’s my decision and mine only.

“What can I say?” I ask instead. “It’s very amusing to watch you in distress, Monroe. You gave me some laughs. But now the fun time is over. The mark has caught up with you.”

A long silence that must be agonizing for her ensues.

We hold each other’s gaze the entire time. Mine burning with cruelty and amusement. Hers dulled by the circumstances of her fate.

She’s so pitiful, I’m half expecting her to tip her head back and offer me her neck. Just to make it easier on me to get it done.