Page 38 of Marked By Him

Jin’s hands that had been so deft and powerful.

One of his trapped both my wrists in place. His grip was so tight, I couldn’t slip free. I couldn’t break it no matter how hard I squirmed and fought.

Then he’d grabbed my throat and squeezed in warning. I’d looked up into his dark, menacing eyes and my insides quaked.

Originally, I thought from fear. But the more I fixate on the moment, the more I wonder if maybe… maybe my insides were trembling from something else.

Some kind of twisted desire for him. The same he seemed to have for me.

The server startles me back to reality, delivering our pasta bowls. The clang of the utensils transports me to the present, where my gaze falls on the set of a fork, spoon, and knife.

I focus on the sharp blade, then think about how Jin had pressed his to my throat.

Again.

What the hell is wrong with me that I’m thinking about this like I am!? Do I have some screw loose or something?

Kelly pauses in the middle of her story. “You okay? You seem distracted.”

“Yeah, just… um, tired,” I fib.

She squints at me a second, then waves a hand, picking up her fork. “You have all summer holiday to catch up on sleep. How was your mom’s visit?”

“Good. We did a bunch of touristy stuff—temples, markets, Haeundae Beach. She loved the street food. She bought a floppypink hat she didn’t want to take off. Wore that thing all over Busan.”

Kelly smiles. “She sounds adorable.”

“I’ll have to show you pictures once I get my new phone synced to my iCloud.”

We finish our rose cream pasta and step back out into the drizzle. The sidewalk glistens, a contrast to the dreary, dull gray sky.

But just because it’s a rainy day doesn’t mean the streets aren’t crowded. People walk in all directions, umbrellas bobbing.

Kelly insists on walking with me to the LG U+ store two blocks away, chattering the whole time about another colleague of ours who got fired.

“Can you believe him?” she asks, clicking her tongue. “Selling answers to test questions? He’ll never work in the EPIK again. Or any other country, probably.”

Inside the store, I sign the paperwork for a new phone while the sales associate powers it on and syncs it with my previous accounts. Kelly’s fascinated by the bubble-gum-pink Hello Kitty phone cases on display. So much so, she buys one.

“I feel like an adult again,” I joke weakly once we’ve exited the store.

Kelly nudges me. “Welcome back to the world. No one in today’s age should be without a smart phone for days.”

She has a point, though in my case, being off the grid was probably what’s best.

I’m clearly being watched. Followed. Targeted by the deadly criminal gangsters known as the Baekho Pa.

I take the subway home, figuring it’ll be faster than trying to catch a cab in the rain. It’s late afternoon, which means the underground is packed with commuters—businessmen in suits, summer school students with backpacks, couples huddled close after enduring the rain without an umbrella or hoodie.

I step with the crowd onto the subway car, throwing paranoid glances over my shoulders.

It’s hard to tell if the paranoia is an irrational fear response after what’s happened, or if there’s actual reason for me to be on high alert.

When you go through traumatic events, everything starts to feel like a threat.

Loud, jarring noises. Crowds of unknown people. The exposure that being in public brings.

I keep my eyes peeled the entire train ride for anything off. I spot him after the third stop we make.

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