Page 40 of Marked By Him

My stance slips into a sharp and sudden pivot, and I launch my leg up in a roundhouse kick. Otherwise called a Dollyo Chagi in Tae Kwon Do. The blow connects with Seung-min’s ribs, wiping him off his feet. He crashes to the ground before he’s even recognized what’s hit him.

The large room goes quiet. A few of the younger Baekho members pause in between their weightlifting, glancing over in curiosity.

I peer down at Seung-min, my sweat-slick hair in my eyes. “This is the last time I’m going to tell you. Don’t speak of her.”

The shock fades from his face for laughter that sounds like it’s coming from a caveman. Thick, loud, grunty sounds.

He rolls over ’til his lower back is off the ground, then juts his legs forward, pushing all the way up ’til he’s jumped to his feet.

He’s still laughing as he does, tugging off the bomber jacket he wears and tossing it aside.

“I can’t do that,” he answers smoothly. “Not when it’s true. I’ve been watching her. You left her alive, Jin-tae. Has the Silent Hunter gone soft?”

The fire in my veins surges to white-hot levels.

My vision narrows until he’s the only thing I see. The fury takes over.

My fist slams into his cheekbone with a satisfyingcrackthat sends spittle flying from his mouth. He grunts and stumbles sideways. Before he can recover, I follow up with two sharp side kicks to the ribs.

I feel the impact reverberate through him. He’s knocked back against the wall, that cocky grin nowhere to be found now.

How dare he follow her? How dare he put eyes on her like she’s his prey?

Imarked her.

She’s mine.

I’m not through with Seung-min. I advance on him, ready to beat him some more. As my leg snaps outward for another kick, he throws his arms to block. Then he ducks low and sweeps his leg through mine.

Pain sears up my hip as I hit the mat hard and air is knocked out of me. He moves to mount, arm drawn back for a strike, butI twist away at the last second. The weight of his body sends him stumbling forward as he hits nothing more than air.

The adrenaline guides both of us. It’s coursing through me, moving even faster than my thoughts, which feel more disjointed than usual.

But in this moment, I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck about anything but rearranging Seung-min’s squashed face.

We circle each other like wolves.

He dives for a jab as I pivot and then counter with a spinning elbow that lands.

It’s how we carry on—trading blows, fighting between the gym equipment that surrounds us. My leg lifts high and slams vertically down on him in a brutal axe kick. In Tae Kwon Do, we call it a Nae Ryo Chagi.

But it’s not only Tae Kwon Do that I fight with.

I’ve spent my whole life fight training. I’ve mixed various styles into a hybrid version that’s mine and mine alone.

Kang Seung-min is a competent fighter. But you need to be a lot more than that to even come close to standing a chance against me.

His shoulder slams into a hanging punching bag after another swift kick from me. He rebounds by shoving it toward me.

The punching bag collides with me and knocks me back long enough to buy him some time.

Or so he thinks—I grab the chain above it and swing around the side, using the momentum to vault into the air.

He watches on in helpless fashion. It almost feels like a slow motion moment, yet in reality it happens quickly.

I leap into the air and rotate my body in a complicated spinning roundhouse kick. The force lands in the center of his chest.

He flies backward with a pained grunt, crashing into the mat. The kick was a straight blow that’s enough to disorient most fighters. It’s enough to call victory.

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