Page 51 of Ruthless Touch

It’s the dead of night, and the place is engulfed in darkness.

Gun isreallyasleep this time. His breathing is deep and rhythmic, his chest slowly rising and then falling. The rest of his body is draped over the couch, his limbs hanging limply over the sides.

I slink past the living room and dart for the door. I’ve abandoned the shiv and pill ideas and decided on a different approach.

If I can’t kill Rhee Gun-woo, then I’ll at least use my lock-picking skills to escape his clutches. I found a paperclip and have unbent it so that I can use it to undo the front door’s lock.

It should take me no more than a minute or two.

The straightened paperclip slides into the lock mechanism.

My fingers work with the kind of muscle memory that comes from years of breaking into places I’m not supposed to be.

The metal scrapes against the internal pins with clicking sounds that would be quiet in a loud room, but in this quiet one they sound deafeningly loud.

I hold my breath for every second it takes.

Click. Click. Click.

Behind me, Gun’s breathing remains deep and even, the rhythm unchanged from when I first crept past him knocked out on the couch.

The paperclip twists in my grip as I manipulate the final pin. It gives way with a final click that’s louder than the others combined.

But it’s the sound ofsuccess.

I’ve done it. I’ve picked the double lock, and in record time.

I glance over my shoulder one more time to confirm that Gun is still out. Then I ease the doorknob into a slow turn. It moves freely now, no longer rigidly frozen in place.

With utmost care, I pull the door open just wide enough to slip through the crack.

But the moment I step across the threshold, my escape attempt screeches to a halt.

The man standing just outside grins wide. “Look what we have here. Breaking out of the joint, eh, cutie?”

Defensive instincts explode through my nervous system like live wires. I don’t give it any thought, going straight into attack mode.

My leg whips out in a vicious side kick aimed at his chest. The impact connects with satisfying force, sending him stumbling back with a grunt of pained surprise.

The only downside is there’s only one way to go down the hall, which means if I want to escape, I’ll have to get past him.

I launch myself forward in another combo of kicks. My body moves on autopilot, ignoring the throbs from my still-healing ribs.

The man grabs onto my ankle mid-kick and, using my own momentum, sends us both crashing to the ground.

We land in a heap on top of each other and instantly start grappling. His hands try to pin my wrists while I’m still on the attack, going for strikes to his face.

Footsteps pad behind us. My heart sinks as I realize this is fruitless.

There’s no way I’m escaping if it’s two on one. Not in the condition I’m currently in.

“Trying to escape again, Goyangi?” Gun asks exasperatedly. “Did you think I wouldn’t have security?”

“Hey,” groans the man under me. He lets go of my wrist and staggers onto his feet. “I’m notsecuritysecurity. This is me doing you a favor, Gun-woo.”

That’s when I realize who this is. I hadn’t noticed in the split second I had to attack him, but now that I get a good look at him in the hallway lighting, it’s the same flirty cornball from Eclipse.

The club had been dark, lit only by the violet neon lights, but I see him clearly now.