Page 52 of Ruthless Touch

Joon-gi is the guy who had been the first to shoot his shot that night. Apparently, now he’s moonlighting as a prison guard.

I scowl and push myself off the ground, agitated by the set up.

Joon’s rubbing at his chest where my kick landed. “Damn, Gun-woo. You weren’t joking when you said she was fierce as fuck. I think I’ll be feeling that kick for a month. You owe me hazard pay for this on-the-job injury.”

“Shut up and stop crying like a baby,” Gun replies without sympathy. His hand closes around my elbow as he guides me back toward the apartment.

I wrench my arm from his grasp the moment we’re through the doorway.

“I’ll never stop trying to escape! What part of ‘I hate your guts’ don’t you understand?”

Gun’s lips spread into his signature cocky grin. “What part of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ don’tyouunderstand?”

Rage clenches in my chest like a pressure cooker bound to explode. My fists ball at my sides as the urge to show him just what kind of deadly predator I can be arises.

He seems to recognize the bloodthirsty look on my face. His dark eyes gleam as if he savors it. Hewelcomesit.

“You want to kill me right now, don’t you?” he taunts. “But you tried already. You couldn’t bring yourself to use that shiv, could you?”

From somewhere behind us, Joon speaks. He’s wandered into the apartment after us to watch our latest fight. “Mom, Dad... why can’t you just get along?”

We both ignore him.

I step into Gun’s personal space, close enough that we peer into each other’s eyes and nothing else.

“I could’ve done it,” I snarl, my voice low and deadly. “I had a moment of weakness. I realize now that I was wrong.”

“You have a lot of those. Moments of weakness. Like when we were kissing in that hotel suite.”

My eyes narrow, my glare acidic. “Sleep with both eyes open, Rhee.”

“I don’t need to. Ilikeit when you’re angry, Goyangi. Iwantyou to try to kill me.” He’s the one to step closer this time, leaning in as he holds our charged gaze. “It’s more fun that way.”

Gun steps around me like our conversation is over, already engaging with Joon like I’ve been dismissed.

If I don’t remove myself from the room, I’ll go crazy and stab the paperclip I have into his eyeball—or much worse.

I rush from the living room, down the hall, slamming the bedroom door shut. My entire body vibrates with unspent violent urges.

…with fury that can’t be acted out, which only makes me feel helpless.

One of the worst feelings I could ever have.

I sink onto the edge of the bed with my head in my hands.

How the hell am I going to survive this situation? What the fuck am I going to do when I’m at the mercy of my greatest enemy?

“Hungry?”

I don’t bother turning away from what little I can see of the Seoul skyline through the bedroom window. The building next door blocks most of it, making the cityscape seem so small and distant.

“No thank you,” I grit out, jaw clenched with tension.

“Suit yourself. I prepared an extra bowl of japchae anyway. It’s piping hot and fresh.”

I can tell—the savory aroma drifts into the bedroom.

Sesame oil and soy sauce. A touch of garlic and onion.