Chapter 8 - The Cost of Blood
Blood soaked warm and sticky through Min-hyuk’s shirt, pooling against his waistband. He leaned heavily against the frame, keeping his weapon trained on the advancing shadow of Chairman Song.
"You burned Dae-hyun alive," Min-hyuk said, his voice grating like broken stones. "You told me it was a rival family from Osaka. You made me serve the dog who murdered my brother."
Chairman Song chuckled, a dry, wheezing sound that rattled in his throat. "Dae-hyun was weak. He wanted to turn our empire legitimate. He wanted to give our money to schools and orphanages. A fool’s dream. You, however... you were a weapon. The sharpest blade I ever forged. Why waste a masterwork over a little family secret?"
Song raised a silver-plated revolver, aiming directly between Min-hyuk's eyes. "Drop your gun, nephew. Step aside, and I will let the little rats and their mother die quickly. Resist, and I will make you watch what The Butcher does to them."
Behind the surgical room door, Su-ah sat in total darkness beneath the metal table. She heard every word. Her hands trembled violently, but she didn't cry. She looked at her mother’s pale, sweat-sheened face resting above her, then at the two infants sleeping fitfully in their basket. She remembered the man in the charcoal suit who had tossed her an ivory handkerchief instead of a beating. She remembered him leaping in front of a shotgun blast to save her.
Her small fingers brushed against the floor tiles, finding a fallen scalpel that had dropped from Dr. Han’s tray during the firefight. She gripped the cold, razor-sharp steel tightly in her small palm.
"I won't step aside," Min-hyuk breathed, his finger tightening on the carbine's trigger.
"Pity," Song said, pulling the hammer back.
Before Song could fire, a piercing shriek echoed from beneath the doorway. Su-ah darted out of the smoke like a feral animal, diving straight at The Butcher’s knee. With all the terror-fueled adrenaline in her young veins, she drove the surgical scalpel deep into the hulking giant’s Achilles tendon.
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The Butcher let out a deafening roar of agony, his colossal frame buckling as the tendon severed. In that split second of distraction, Min-hyuk lunged forward, throwing his entire weight into Chairman Song.
They crashed through the splintered drywall of the front dry-cleaning shop, tumbling onto the rain-slicked pavement outside in the blinding storm.
