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His thigh, his ribs, his head.

My leg whips out in a blur as I move from one part of him to the other, knocking the blade from his grip. He’s staggering on his feet, his eyes vacant as he struggles to stay up. I hammer a fist to his jaw, the uppercut enough to drop him to the mat.

“Get up!” I command, circling him. “Get up!”

He tries, then flops back down.

The crowd is a loud cacophony of jeers, cheers, gasps, murmurs.

We’re their entertainment for the night.

Seung-min wobbles to his feet after his third attempt, blood dribbling down his chin. His right eye is swollen shut. His left eyelid looks half tempted to do the same.

“GET UP!” I roar at him as he drops yet again. “This is what you wanted, right, Seung-min? Fight me to the death like a man!”

He’s winded, his movements sloppy as he finally manages to stay on his feet. We circle again, though it’s already over. He lunges at me, his fist sailing for my head. I duck under him, grab his waist, and suplex him hard onto the mat. The thud is deafening and barbaric.

I push myself up, standing over him, watching as he lays helplessly on the mat. He’s coughing up blood, ripe for the final blow.

I climb on top of him. I meant it when I said there would be no mercy. If the roles were reversed, he would have no mercy for me. He would happily run his blade through me and end me.

My fist draws back for the final crushing blow to his skull?—

“ENOUGH!”

The voice rises above the loud, jeering fray of the audience.

It belongs to Jae-hyun. He stands from his throne-like front row seat, peering down at the two of us like some emperor.

“Back away, Jin-tae,” he commands. “I decide who lives and dies. This is over.”

A heavy, poignant silence crashes down on the chamber. No one dares object to his order.

Not even me.

My fist shakes as I husk deep breaths into my lungs, and stare down at the battered Seung-min.

Then I rise, stepping back. Adrenaline beats through me, pounding in my ears. I refuse to dignify Jae-hyun with an answer, sparing him no look or address at all.

I simply turn and walk out of the chamber, blood dripping from my fists.

The drive from the Claw Lounge to my apartment in Gijang-gun passes by in a haze. My bloody grip is tight on the steering wheel as I speed through the streets. Soon the hustle and bustle that’s the heart of Busan fades for the dark and quiet of a small village like Gijang-gun.

I’m fresh off the duel with Seung-min, bruises decorating my face and torso. The left side of my face is swollen. The shirt I’d ripped off is still on the mat where I’d beaten Seung-min into submission.

I ride the elevator shirtless, ignoring the haughty look from an elder man who also lives in the building. He has a bag of trash he’s taking out, eyeing me and the dried blood on my knuckles with open offense.

Monroe’s reaction is equally as startled.

I walk through the door still coursing with intense adrenaline. You’d think I’d be spent after a fight like that with Seung-min, but instead it’s left me more amped than ever.

“Jin,” she mutters in shock. Her large, expressive eyes rove over me, lashes fluttering. “What… how… where’s your shirt?”

A rare laugh leaves me. Possibly the first time she’s ever heard it. I cut across the apartment, my gait smooth and fast, taking her by surprise. Before she can even anticipate it, I’m standing over her on the couch, snatching the book out of her hands and tossing it aside.

“I just came from a fight to the death,” I answer candidly and casually all at the same time. I fist her tight curls, tugging her head back and capturing her mouth in a sudden, ravaging kiss.

Monroe releases a squeak, so surprised by how quickly it’s happened. Clearly she wasn’t expecting me to kiss her like this.