Page 47 of Ruthless Touch

“But Jamie is? If you don’t know your real name, neither do I. So Goyangi it is. Eat.”

Begrudgingly, I settle back against the pillows and take the spoon he offers, bringing the first mouthful to my lips. The soup is rich and flavorful, tasting of chicken, garlic, and scallions, and despite myself, I have to suppress a sound of appreciation.

Gun watches every spoonful I take with those dark, glittering eyes of his. He surveys me like I’m some fascinating specimen under a microscope. The scrutiny makes me uncomfortable in ways I don’t want to examine.

“What do you want with me?” I finally ask after another spoonful of soup.

“Are you ever not suspicious?” he counters, tilting his head. “You’re one of the most suspicious people I’ve ever met. So distrusting of any and everything.”

“It’s kept me alive this long.”

“It doesn’t hurt to trust sometimes either. Have some faith in life itself. Go with the flow.” His smile is lazy. Almost mocking. “Look at me—I’m still alive, and I don’t play by the rules.”

“Forgive me if I don’t want to take advice from the man who ruined my plans tonight.”

“You mean to assassinate one of my lieutenants? Who’s paying you, Goyangi? Why are you after the Cheongryong? You know what happens to our enemies?”

“I’ll take my chances.”

The corner of his mouth quirks as if even my response amuses him. “I can’t make you see reason, but either way, you’re stuck here. You might as well accept it.”

He turns and walks out of the room.

As his footsteps fade down the hall, I tip the bowl to my lips and drink the remaining broth in long, grateful gulps.

Rhee Gun-woo will get his way for now. It’s true that I’m stuck here at his so-called love nest.

For tonight, I decide, I’ll rest up. I’ll behave. I’ll let my body heal and gather my strength.

But tomorrow... tomorrow I find my way out of this trap disguised as sanctuary.

Dawn bleeds across the Seoul sky in watercolor streaks of lavender and rose. The apartment is steeped in hushed silence, broken only by the distant hum of traffic in the streets below.

I’m feeling marginally better after a couple hours of rest. The pain has dulled enough, and I’ve regained enough strength that I’m able to stand and move through the room.

My clothes are crumpled in the hamper like discarded evidence, torn and stained with blood and warehouse grime. They smell like dried sweat and blood, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

Right now all that matters is putting distance between myself and this makeshift prison.

I sneak out of the bedroom and creep down the hall toward what I hope is freedom, bare feet soundless against the hardwood floors. Each step feels like a small victory, proof that my body is remembering how to be the weapon it was trained to be instead of the broken thing I’ve been for the past night.

The living room opens up before me, sparse and masculine in its simplicity, and there on the couch lies Gun in a position that speaks to exhaustion deeper than mere sleep.

His neck is craned back against the headrest, mouth slightly open as light snores escape his lips.

It’s the first time since I’ve known him that he looks almost... human.

Vulnerable.

Which would make it the perfect opportunity to carry out my mission. Eliminate Yongsa Rhee Gun-woo for what he and his family did to Dad.

For half a second, I’m vicious and vengeful enough to consider it.

How easy would it be to end his life right now?

One quick slash to his exposed throat, a pillow over his face, the single pull of a trigger. All ways I could solve the Gun-woo problem for good.

He wouldn’t even know the difference. He’d be dead too quickly.