Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I didn't have the strength to kick down another door, so when I came across the first room, I had to shoot the lock open.
Thankfully, the corridor seemed empty, so no one rushed in at the noise. But then, maybe that was kind of counterproductive, since I was supposed to be gathering the mob's attention. When I entered the room, I found that it didn't matter, even though the only person inside the room was the person I'd least expected to see.
The escort girl from the casino stood in front of me, eyes wide. She clearly hadn't been expecting to see me, either—her face was wiped clean of any makeup, though I could see a bit of bruising at her collarbone and the corner of her mouth. She was wearing plain clothes, her hair tumbling loose over her shoulders, but the look that flashed in her eyes was frightened and wary. This probably wasn't the first time she'd been surprised by a visitor.
"What are you doing here?" she asked sharply, and I recoiled. The knife was still gripped in my hand, but my grasp on it loosened when she spoke. Her lips were flattened, and she looked sharp and aware—like she knew something, knew who I was, and expected me to know the same. "Why are you in this building?"
"I..." I stopped short. My lips parted. The last time I'd seen her, I had been teary-eyed and a blubbering mess, the wound of my father's death still fresh. Now the wound was festering, and even though the emotion that filled my heart was ugly, I still remembered every detail of the encounter vividly.
The night was imprinted into my mind, from the blonde escort helping me find Taeyong to my inability to help him in return. That night had been a night of conflicting emotions, none similar, and all rising to the surface like lava in an active volcano. The deathly pale expression Jun had donned when I'd threatened to kill him, the blood spattered over my face after plowing through so many men with a baseball bat, the brokenly vulnerable look in Vernon's eyes.
"You have to go," the girl said, breaking me out of my thoughts. Her eyes were narrow, giving the impression that they were slitted, and she had thin lips and pointed features like a fox. The same feeling nagged at me—familiarity, dread, doubt. "Or they'll find you."
"It's okay." My voice sounded hoarse to my own ears. I wanted to reassure her, but it felt like I was the one who needed reassurance instead. "I need them to find me."
"But then they'll do things to you," she said. I met here eyes: they were brimming with emotion, empathy and pity and devastation. How do you know who I am? "Bad things. Like the things they did to me."
"I'll be fine," I said, though worry gnawed at me. I knew I couldn't leave her a second time, not after everything that had been running through my mind after leaving her for the first time. But the question was, how? How could I sneak her past such thick reinforcements, the entire force of the clan? And even if I did, where would I go then? "I have a plan. And I can—I can get you out, too."
