Page 72 of Ruthless Touch

Gun slams on the gas as the massive vehicle barrels toward us.

We shoot forward into the narrowest alleyway I’ve ever seen—so tight the brick walls brush either shoulder.

One wrong move and we’ll be in the emergency room.

The SUV comes to a screeching halt behind us, too wide to follow. By the time they find another route around, we’ll be long gone into Seoul’s labyrinthine streets.

But we’re not in the clear yet.

The second motorcycle is still on our ass. Its rider opens fire again as we emerge from the alley. Gun’s body jerks against mine as a bullet pierces his shoulder.

He growls in pain, the bike wavering dangerously as he fights to maintain control while blood soaks through his jacket.

For a terrifying moment, I think we’re going to go down in a tangle of metal and broken bones. Gun manages to wrestle the bike back under control and guides us into the mouth of a concrete parking garage.

We hop off the moment we’re out of sight, both of us breathing hard as the sound of our pursuer’s engine echoes off the walls somewhere behind us.

“This way,” he growls, grabbing my hand again.

We disappear deeper into the shadows, racing up the stairwell to hide in the massive concrete structure.

We hurtle up the stairs two at a time, breathing ragged every step of the way.

The skybridge appears like a lifeline on the fifth floor. It stretches across the void, connecting the parking garage to a massive designer mall that glitters with Gangnam retail opulence even at this hour.

We sprint across the glass-walled corridor as another black SUV cruises past on the street below.

More Cheongryong members scouring the area for us. They know we couldn’t have gotten far.

The mall’s interior is as expected. Nothing but luxury storefronts and polished marble.

We wander the area until we find a family restroom tucked away near the food court. I dive inside first as Gun follows, snapping the lock into place.

He immediately wrests off his leather jacket, hissing through his teeth at the pain from his shoulder.

Blood has soaked through the black t-shirt he’s wearing, exposing the damaged flesh.

“How bad?” I ask.

He grits his teeth and snatches paper towels from the dispenser. “I’ve had worse. This isn’t what I’m worried about. I’m more concerned with how the hell we’re going to get out of this area... and how you can ever show your face in Seoul again after tonight.”

I catch his reprimand and irritation and react off temper.

“I never asked you to intervene,” I say. “In fact, I would’ve preferred if you hadn’t.”

“I wasn’t going to let you murder my father,” he snarls back, clutching his bleeding shoulder with a handful of paper towels that immediately soak through.

“You better get used to it, because I’ll never stop trying!”

Gun’s face clenches the same way it had the last night we argued. He’s at his wit’s end, any and all patience gone.

“Tell me!” he demands, taking a step toward me despite his injury. “I want the truth right now, feline. What the fuck is your revenge all about? What has you so fucking bitter you’d risk anything to destroy my father and the syndicate!”

I back toward the door, suddenly needing escape more than confrontation, but he refuses to be denied this time.

“I SAID TELL ME!” he barks louder. “Tell me what the fuck it is!”

When I reach for the handle, his good hand slams against the door above my head, keeping it firmly shut.