Vicarious (39 page)

Rose is dead.

Gideon is probably dead.

Jesse is probably dead.

But I am not.

If I am going to die today, I'm going to die fighting.

I throw myself at Sung Jin. We end up on the ground. Fists fly. My hands find flesh. They find floor. I am all screaming and tears. I barely feel the blows landing against my face and ribs. I have no idea if I am dying. I keep lashing out. At one point my head ricochets off the back wall of the elevator and I swear I feel my brain bounce against my skull. But then somehow my fingers find the gun and all I feel is the death I'm about to unleash.

You don't have to kill him.

A second voice:
Yes, you do.

I
want
to kill him.

I don't even have to think about it. Ever since Jesse taught me how to handle a gun, part of me has been dying to shoot one. Flame explodes from the barrel. Once. Twice. Three times. The recoil of the gun shocks me all the way to my shoulders. Sung Jin slams into the wall. He gasps, reaching out for me as he falls to the ground. The gun smokes in my trembling hands. As the elevator continues skyward, Sung Jin's eyes turn to glass. Still shaking, I bend to feel for a pulse at his neck. Nothing.

The doors open with a sharp chime. We're back at Gideon's penthouse. I step over Sung Jin's body and head immediately to check on Gideon, wondering what's taking the paramedics so long to get up here.

Gideon's face is gray, but he's alive. “Ha Neul,” he breathes. “Forgive me.”

I fall to my knees and take his hand in mine. “Hold on,” I plead. “Don't die.”

Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth. “I left everything to you. The building, Escape, the tech—it's yours now.” He wheezes. Droplets of blood land around his pale lips. “There's an envelope with your name on it in the safe downstairs.” He whispers the combination to me.

“I don't need that,” I say. “Because you're going to be fine. You have to be fine.”

A tear leaks from his left eye. “I'm so sorry for bringing this upon you.”

“I forgive you.” I press his hand to my chest. “I love you. You are my family.”

He smiles faintly. “So beautiful,” he murmurs. “Inside and out.” Then his eyes fall shut.

“Oppa, no.” My heart wrenches open.

But his body goes still.

My world dies. I have lost everything important to me today.

“Winter.”

No. Not everything.

From the doorway to the dining room, Jesse reaches out toward me, his face contorting with pain. “You've got to get out of here.”

Blood covers his arm, bathing his tattoos in a curtain of red. More blood flows from the wound in his side each time he exhales.

I cross the ocean of carnage to kneel beside him, brushing away a sweaty point of dark hair that's glued itself to his forehead. A lump forms in my throat as I run my fingers across the bruises left by my fists. I should apologize. I
need
to apologize, but there's no time.

Quickly, I survey his new injuries, mindful of the sirens growing louder. He's been shot twice, once in the side and once in the shoulder. He's bleeding a lot, but his face still has color and his pulse is strong. The bullets must have missed his major vessels.

“I don't want to leave you,” I say.

“You have to,” he chokes out. “I don't want you to get sent away.”

He's right. Four people have been shot, and I'm the one holding the gun. There is no way I will escape an investigation if I am found here. “The medics will be here soon. You're going to be all right.”

“I know.” Jesse clutches his side. “Wipe the gun on your shirt and put it in my hand.”

“What? Why?”

“Because then you were never here.”

“But I shot him three times,” I protest. “They might try to say that isn't self-defense. And the forensics will look like—”

“Screw the forensics,” Jesse says. “Baz will back me up. We can handle it.”

“Do it and then get the hell out of here, Winter,” Baz yells from the kitchen. “And take the ViSE tech with you.”

I wipe the gun off and place it in Jesse's right hand. “Promise me you won't die.”

“I'll be fine,” he says. And then, “Play the end of that ViSE. It's important.”

Before I can tell him that it doesn't matter, that I believe him now, a phone rings, sharp and shrill. The sound is coming from the elevator. Sung Jin's phone. Probably someone checking to see if he's completed what he came here for.

Returning to the elevator, I kneel down and fish a cell phone from Sung Jin's breast pocket. I hit the button to answer the call as I hurry back to the living room, but I don't say anything.

Neither does the caller.

I can hear him breathing.

I hold my breath.

When he speaks, it's in Korean. “Did you get what I need?” he asks, with a trace of irritation. I know that voice. It's Kyung.

I still can't speak. The silence stretches out. Outside, the sirens crescendo. Through the broken sliding glass door, I see an ambulance and a pair of cop cars approaching from down the block.

“Ki Hyun?” It's a question.

“No.” I swallow back a sob. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

“Song Ha Neul,” Kyung says. “Well, this is an interesting development.”

“Ha Neul is dead. I go by another name now,” I say sharply, finding my voice at last. “If you're calling for Sung Jin, he's also dead.”

“Then he won't be bringing me what is rightfully mine. Which means you'll have to—”

I cut him off. “My time taking orders from you is long past.”

Kyung chuckles. My bones turn to ice. “Keep this phone,” he says. “You are mine again.”

Before I can tell him that I belong to no one, the call disconnects. More sirens sing in the distance.

I grab the ViSE tech and a throwing knife from my room. I return to the living room and pause just long enough to retrieve my other knife from the floor and to give Jesse one last look.

“Winter. Go!” he yells.

I go.

 

CHAPTER 42

I am
halfway down the stairs before I realize I don't know where I'm going.
Play the end of that ViSE.
I left my headset and recordings at Escape. I can hide out there for a few minutes, try to clear my head in the quiet safety of a ViSE room.

I tuck my bloody hands into the center pocket of my hoodie as I cross the lobby of the building, suddenly grateful that I'm wearing all black. I let my hair hang forward to cover most of my face. Adebayo looks up from behind the bar as I enter. “What is happening?” he asks. “I heard sirens.”

“Not sure,” I lie. I trust him, but I don't know what story Jesse and Baz are going to tell the cops. It's better if I don't give him any conflicting information. “I left some things in a ViSE room. I'm just going to go get them.

“Of course.” He adjusts his glasses. “Are you certain you're all right? You look … disheveled.”

“I'm fine,” I say. “I've been sparring.” I force down the tears. Now is not the time to fall apart.

When I slip back into the ViSE room and shut the door, it's like locking out everything I can't deal with—the people, the lies … the love. I try not to think of Rose dead, Gideon dead, Jesse and Baz bleeding. My headset still sits on the chair in the center of the room. In Florida, I thought Jesse wanted me to see the end of the recording because it proved I was the one who recorded it. But maybe there's something else …

Reluctantly, I recline back into the chair and slip the ViSE of Other-me with Jesse into my headset. Closing my eyes, I skip forward past the parts I've already played and the parts I'm not ready to play. The very end is Jesse and Other-me snuggled together under a blanket on the sofa. I back the recording up about thirty seconds and press
PLAY
.

I lie encircled in Jesse's arms, my head pressed to his chest. His heart beats, quickly at first and then slower. His eyes are closed. A smile plays at his lips. I am warm, inside and out.

“Your heart is beating erratically,” I inform him.

“That's your fault,” he says.

“Why is that?”

He brushes my hair back from my face. “Because you totally own it right now.”

“You're such a girl,” I tease.

“Yeah, well. Some of the girls I know happen to be pretty badass.”

A tiny pinch of pain radiates outward as my heart flutters in my chest. “So you're not scared anymore?”

He shakes his head. “I'm more scared now than ever, but it doesn't change how I feel. I love you, Winter.”

Heat surges through me at his use of my name, at the word
love
.

I brush my lips against his. “It's going to take some time for me to learn how to love someone.”

“That's okay,” Jesse says. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“You're not allowed to die,” I whisper. My phone chimes with an incoming text. I stop the ViSE and sit up in the dark, but when I access my messages, there's nothing new. Then I realize it wasn't my phone that chimed. It was Sung Jin's.

My heart climbs into my throat. I should ignore that phone. I should throw it away. I should smash it to pieces and set it on fire.

But I don't.

With shaking fingers, I check the messages. There's a text that says, “I will see you soon.” It has a link to an airline page, highlighting the flight schedules from St. Louis to Los Angeles.

Leaving tomorrow.

If Kyung thinks just because his thug killed Rose and Gideon that I'm scared enough to travel to L.A. and do his bidding, he's dreaming. I don't care if Gideon stole the neural mapping codes or the editor or the entire ViSE technology. I owe Kyung
nothing
.

Nothing but revenge.

I'll take the money Gideon left me and disappear to a place where Kyung won't find me. Then someday when he least expects it, I'll come for him. I will make him pay, the man who sold me like I was an animal, the man who sanctioned the killing of my family.

Almost as if Kyung can read my thoughts, a second message arrives.

It's a photo of a Korean boy who looks about sixteen. There's something eerily familiar about him.
Meet your brother, Jun. He works for me. We are both eager to see you again.

I nearly drop the phone. Brother? I stare at the photo. No, it can't be …

Only it could. My mother might have given Rose and me away, but kept a boy child. Even today, many Korean families can afford only one child and it's imperative to continue a bloodline. I zoom in on the boy in the picture, looking for Rose or me inside his high cheekbones and wide-set eyes. I can't be certain. It could be a trick.

Or he could be my brother.

I dial the phone and wait for Kyung to answer. “What do you want from me?” I ask.

“Bring me the technology and I'll let your brother live,” Kyung says.

“The way you let my sister live?”

“She brought about her own demise,” Kyung says. “I was quite sad about that. Min Ji was one of my favorites.”

“You disgust me,” I say. “And maybe you haven't heard, but the tech was stolen.”

“Then you have three days to find it,” Kyung says. “Or else I send your brother to you, in pieces.” The phone goes dead.

I text back.

How do I know he's my brother?

The return messages come rapid-fire. Each message contains a picture. My mother tightly clutching the hand of a dark-haired toddler. My mother looking older with a school-aged boy. I'm about to denounce them all as forgeries when the last message chimes: a picture of my mother clutching a woven basket. A baby slumbers inside of it.

I remember that basket. And then I remember the long train ride—how I was hungry, thirsty. Each time I would reach for the basket, my mother slapped my hand away. Not because she didn't want me to have food, but because she didn't want me to wake the baby. Could I really have blocked out the fact that I have a little brother? Why wouldn't Rose have mentioned him?

Or maybe she did, and I just don't remember.

I call Natalie.

“Hey,” she says. “I'll be home in like ten minutes if you want to come by for Miso.”

“Actually, can you watch him for a few more days?” I ask. “Something came up and I have to go out of town.”

“Sure. He's a doll. Is everything okay?”

“It will be. I just have some stuff to take care of.”

“Not a problem. He'll be waiting for you.”

I remove my headset and stuff everything into my pockets. Glancing both ways to make sure the hallway is clear, I cross from the ViSE room to the back office. I spin the combination to the safe and open it. I find the envelope with my name on it that Gideon was talking about and slip it into the center pocket of my hoodie. Bundles of cash are stacked neatly next to a folder of financial paperwork. Feeling a little like a thief, I help myself to some of the money before I shut the safe.

I slip out of the office and turn toward the exit. I'll die before I turn Gideon's technology over to Kyung, but if I have a brother somewhere, I have to find him. I have to save him. And I have to kill the man who took away the rest of my family.

I leave Escape and pull the hood of my sweatshirt up as I pass through the lobby of the building. Two detectives—real ones, I presume—are questioning a couple of men at the bar.

I step out into the bright but cold evening and head for the nearest MetroLink station. I'm about three blocks away when an ambulance roars past me.

Jesse and Baz should be to the hospital by now. I know no one will give me information about Jesse's status over the phone, but if he has a room number that means he's probably alive. I look up the number to the hospital and wait impatiently for the call to connect.