Page 30 of Marked By Him

The hallway outside is quiet, the fluorescent light buzzing faintly overhead. I’m barely cognizant of the fact that I’m punching in my door code before it dings and the green light on the keypad flashes, telling me it’s unlocked.

Inside, the apartment feels cold and lifeless. It’s no longer lit up with Mom’s warmth. It’s just a reminder how I’m all alone, marked to be killed.

I flick on the lights, slipping off my shoes and heading toward the bedroom. My shoulders sag with exhaustion as I peel off my stack of bracelets and let them roll onto the bed. The room, and the rest of the apartment, are way too quiet.

I pull open the window to invite some of the humming city noise inside. The sound comes immediately, along with a rush of warm summer air. I step back and take a deep breath.

My gaze falls to my wrist as I touch the mark with my fingers and think about how it seems it won’t ever go away.

When Jin marked me, he marked me for the rest of my life.

I’m going to have to deal with the ramifications of that.

But even now, I didn’t expect it to be so damn soon.

It’s as I turn to head into the bathroom for my shower that I hear it—the slow pad of a footstep in the other room.

I freeze at the thought, the next breath I was about to take catching on its way out. I’ve been paranoid since that night in thealley, feeling watched and followed and constantly looking over my shoulder.

But I know what I just heard. I know what Ifeelas my skin prickles with goosebumps.

Swallowing hard, I turn toward the door that leads to the living room.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” I ask, eyes locked on the open doorway. “You’re here.”

In answer, Jin steps into view, cold and menacing, with his tattoos creeping up his neck and his expression tight and vicious. His glare bores into me as the corner of his lips curl.

“It’s time. I’ve finally come to collect.”

9.Jin

My ominous wordsare met with tense silence from Monroe.

We stand opposite each other for the first time since the night in the alley. It was only two weeks ago, yet it feels significantly longer.

In that amount of time, I’ve gotten to know her more closely. I’ve spent countless hours observing her, following her, learning trivial details few others probably would guess about her.

Monroe must sense this too.

I see the realization flicker in her large, expressive eyes. She’s holding back tears. Her chin quivers, the blinks she takes long and slow. Rather than give into them, she seems to steel herself, swallowing hard and mustering up courage.

It’s honestly admirable given her circumstances.

She’s aware she’s going to die tonight.

For the past couple weeks, it’s been on her mind almost every waking moment. There would inevitably come a moment when she couldn’t outrun the mark inked on the inside of her wrist. The Baekho Pa would come to collect.

She would pay for what she saw that night. A loose thread being snipped short.

“How long have you been following me?” she asks. “From the first night in the alley?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Monroe. Isn’t that why you’ve been looking over your shoulder everywhere you go?”

Surprise widens her eyes. Her full lips part as if to speak, then she swallows audibly instead. Her slender fingers have bawled up into small fists at her side, not out of anger, but to keep from giving herself away.

She can barely stand still. She’s a wreck. On the inside and outside.

My mere presence unravels her, makes her skittish like the helpless rabbit I’ve begun to think of her as.

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