Page 112 of Ruthless Touch

It seems to be slowly trickling in for her that we’ve met before. That we were play pals and she was there when it happened.

A common response to childhood trauma that severe.

“Tell us about that night,” I growl, hands balled into fists. “Come clean, and then Elise’ll decide what you deserve.”

He shakes his head and switches to English. “But I’ve already given Elise all the evidence she needs. I sent you a videotape of that night. It has security footage of everything that happened. I’ve kept it under wraps for years once I paid off the police and they marked the case as unsolved. I guess… I always expected this day would come.”

Elise hasn’t lowered her weapon, the barrel still trained on his center mass. “You’re lying.”

“Then who else would have sent it to you?” he asks, smirking as he takes his first sip of the soju. “Do you know I’ve known you were Black Silk for a very long time now? It’s actually thanks to Gun-woo.”

My stomach drops and I almost echo what Elise has said—that he’s lying.

“Weeks ago, Gun-woo told me Black Silk was a woman named Jamie. He thought he was protecting you by giving me the fake alias instead of your real name. But really, Gun-woo didn’t realize how significant the name Jamie is.”

Elise lowers the gun slightly, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s my middle name. But I use it because it was myfather’sname.”

“Exactly.” My father’s smirk widens. “A woman named Jamie trying to assassinate me? Then when I saw you that night at the karaoke lounge, I knew for sure. You know, you resemble him. A much prettier version, but you look like him.

“Chingu-ya Jamie was my best friend. We had many good memories together. We were business partners who flourished and made lots of money. But we were also two men with a lot in common. Former military and business minded. Both looking for savvy ways to use our skills and give our children better lives than we had. It saddened me when he was murdered.”

“I bet you were sad when you murdered him!” Elise screams, raising the gun again.

“You have it all wrong. I didn’t kill him. I never would, no matter the betrayal. It was?—”

But then he starts choking, interrupting himself. His face contorts with sudden agony. The glass of soju slips from his fingers and shatters against the floor, crystal fragments spreading across the hardwood.

His face turns red, then purple, as he gestures frantically at his throat, sputtering the same word over and over: “Can’t... Can’t... Can’t...”

I realize he can’t breathe and rush toward him, but it’s already too late.

My father slumps forward, slamming into his desk, knocking a pen cup and lamp over on his way down. He crumples to the floor, his eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling.

Dead.

TWENTY-FOUR

ELISE

Rhee Tae-hwan collapsedlike 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.”