But that doesn’t matter, because it only takes her a split second to snap into action.
“GET AWAY FROM MY BABY!” she screams ferociously. She grabs a broom that’s propped up against the wall and launches herself at the group of men.
I’ve managed to wrangle my way free, elbowing the man behind me in the stomach and kicking at the other one in the groin.
Like mother like daughter, the second I’m free, I scramble for the first item within reach. A decorative vase on the console table that I hurl at the nearest attacker.
It catches him in the shoulder and shatters, throwing him off balance. The man I’d elbowed in the gut lunges at me for revenge, but I thrust my palm out and slam it into his nose hard enough to produce blood.
“Argh!” he cries out, clutching at his leaking nose.
Mom’s swinging the broom at the two others who have gone to handle her, daring them to try her.
“Go on!” she yells, swatting the broom like a bat. She bops one of them over the head and leaves him staggering sideways. “Try that again, try to put a finger on me or my baby, and find out what happens!”
I’ve grabbed a candle on a shelf and use it on the masked man still doubled over from the groin injury. The candlecracks over his head and renders him unconscious, dropping him to the floor.
I’m ready to go back for more with the guy who I gave a bloody nose, but the fifth masked man comes at me from behind. He grabs me by the arm and yanks me toward him, his grip bruising and rough. His hand collides with my cheek, the backhand making my ears ring.
“DON’T YOU EVER PUT YOUR HANDS ON MY BABY!”
My head’s still reeling from the sudden and brutal strike when there’s a clang and a groan and then a heavy thud.
I open my eyes in time to watch Mom swinging a frying pan through the air and connecting it with the man’s skull.
The men are scrambling now, two of them unconscious or half out of it as they speak in rushed Korean and stumble to their feet.
It seems like they’ve realized this is a losing battle and they’ve attracted too much attention. They rush out the door, dragging the last unconscious one along, yelling that this is only the beginning.
A threat to expect more to come.
I’m breathless as I stare after them, Mom at my side clutching the frying pan. We share a glance and then look back down the hall at the retreating men.
Any moment now, if my landlady has heard the commotion she’ll come rushing over and demand to know what’s happened.
We’ll call the police, though the masked men will have been long gone. The rest of our neighbors will be shocked and scandalized.
But that doesn’t change the fact that these men turned up the way they did. That they promised this wasn’t the end even as they retreated and ranoff.
I swallow against the tide of panic rising up inside me and mutter, “Those were no regular attackers. They were…”
Mom merely nods, finally lowering the frying plan slightly. “I’ll call the police.”
22.Jin
“Baekho-je Jin-tae, we would like a word.”
Lieutenant Hwang Do-gil gives a bow in the doorway of my office. Then he proceeds to lead in a procession of other lieutenants, captains, and a few soldiers. Their faces are grim and their shoulders tense, bearing the weight of whatever it is they’ve come to say.
Do-gil stops in front of my desk, his potbelly hanging over the belt of his pants. He’s a man in his fifties who has sparse, peppered hair and a heavy jowl. Though he’s been in the syndicate as long as I’ve been alive, he’s largely been useless, even in his youth.
It was only through ass-kissing that he worked his way up to the rank of lieutenant.
The other men flank him as they stand before me like pallbearers who have approached a grave. Some of them are so uneasy they even refuse to meet my gaze.
I glare at all of them, a thread of impatience already unraveling inside me.
“What is it?” I snarl from behind my desk. From my largechair where I sit as if an emperor. “What the fuck do you want?”
