“They’re spies,” another shouts, panic in his voice. “Just shoot the bastards.”
“No—”
Logic stands no chance of prevailing against panic. The first man’s orders are resoundingly ignored, and shots ring out. A bullet ricochets off a tree just above my head. I can’t believe I let them sneak up on us.
“Ethan.” I reach for his hand. “We have to run.”
Chilling power, roiling with violence, emanates from Ethan as he stretches out his free hand in front of him. I don’t know what he’s aboutto do, but I can’t wait to find out. I grab his arm and bodily drag him behind a tree.
“Don’t hurt them.” As I say the words, I realize that hecanhurt them. His power rolls off him and reverberates through me like the pounding of a war drum. “They’re human. Feel their gi. They’re just some North Korean soldiers who think they’re doing their job.”
“They tried to kill you,” he snarls.His eyes.They’re swirling with silver-and-green fire. “I won’t lose you too.”
Before I can wonder about his eyes—I’ve never seen anything like them—a half dozen shots ring out behind us. They’re closing in on us. A low growl starts in his chest.Shit.
“Please, Ethan,” I plead.
He allows me to tug him away. We dart between the trees, but a bullet skims my shoulder. My heart plummets when Ethan spins his torso and raises his hand, bellowing with rage. But the soldiers don’t crumple to their feet. They keep running toward us, firing their guns.
Ethan wraps his arm around my shoulders and says against my ear, “Run.”
We take off through the woods. The trees thin out, and I cringe, anticipating more bullets to find their mark. But ... nothing. I risk glancing behind me and see the bullets bouncing off the air behind us. A shield. Ethan raised some kind of shield around us.
There’s no time for questions, so I keep running. The soldiers and their guns can’t keep up with our preternatural speed. We escape them before long and stop to catch our breaths.
“Your shoulder.” Ethan wraps his hands around my arms and turns me to face him.
“It’s just a scratch,” I mutter, stepping out of his hold. “It scabbed over already.”
He stares at the curve of my shoulder where the bullet grazed me, running his thumb underneath the scab to wipe off the blood. He grits his teeth so hard, it’s a wonder he doesn’t crack a molar. I can still sense his rage, but beneath it is a trill of fear and worry ... for me. I can tellby how close he stands to me, shielding me with his body as he scans the woods. But even that doesn’t thaw the ice hardening around my heart.
I get my bearings and lead us to the spring. It’s inside a yawning cave, shallow but tall. The afternoon sun filters in from the gaping mouth, providing enough light for us to make our way to the spring. It’s not an ideal hideout, but the cave will shield us from view long enough to ready ourselves against unwanted visitors.
But right now, I don’t give a fuck about the bad guys. All I care about is the male standing next to me. Heliedto me. He knows how to use his powers—that shield he erected to stop the bullets proves it. That means he knows what his powers are. He knowswhohe is. Gods, he must’ve known all along. Betrayal, dark and bitter, taints my fragile trust in him. In us.
I turn to face him and ask the question I promised myself I wouldn’t. “Whoareyou?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Sunny.” Ethan reaches out for me, devastation in his eyes, and suddenly ... I don’t want him to answer. I don’t want to know who he is. “I—”
Before I can tell him to shut up—tell him I take back my question—he snaps his mouth shut and turns into that hard, tortured stranger again. I follow his line of sight and take an instinctive step back. Apparently, a shallow cave offers no protection from the guardians of the Shingae if they feel like ambushing you. The suhoshin from the diner arrived at the mouth of the cave unseen and unheard.
“Shit.” I drag out the word, putting a wealth of frustration into it. It’s true I was distracted because ... Ethan. But this is the second time in less than half an hour that I let an enemy sneak up on us.
The suhoshin glances at me with the barest arch of his perfect eyebrow. My memories of him from our brief encounter—where we were actively running away from him—didn’t do him justice. He is stupendously gorgeous in a fitted white T-shirt and jeans. Nothing as pedestrian asprettybut a masterpiece of masculine beauty with high, sweeping cheekbones, a straight, aristocratic nose, and long, wide eyes framed by lush, black lashes.
“What do you want?” I sound like a petulant child, but he has no right to be that good looking.
I have enough of my faculties to notice that the silken curtain of his black hair lies unmoving against his shoulders. He doesn’t have hiswings out. I also note that he hasn’t bound us. Maybe this is a friendly visit. Or at least the kind where I don’t get thrown into a windowless cell for all eternity.
But he turns his insolent gaze away from me without answering and studies Ethan for a moment. Then he draws his head back, his eyes flashing with ... recognition? With relief? Drawing a sharp breath, he stands straighter, which is quite a feat.
“At last.” The suhoshin steps one leg forward and moves to ... crouch? My mouth goes slack. What’s he doing? Are his shoelaces untied? “My pr—”
“What is your name?” Ethan asks tersely, halting the suhoshin midmotion.
The suhoshin straightens once more, his gaze flitting toward me for the briefest second before returning to Ethan. “I am Song Jihun, son of Taehun, from the Kingdo—”
