Gilbert (2 page)

“Jihu!” Chul shouted again, but something about his voice sounded…off. Jihu wondered if he was wrong, and it wasn’t Chul hollering, perhaps someone who sounded similar. After all, Jihu had never actually spoken to Chul, but he’d heard Chung-Hee address Chul, heard Chul’s reply, and had been listening for a while, so he was relatively certain it truly was Chul beating the door down. But why?

The ‘why’ didn’t matter an instant later when the door gave, wood splintering as a big man came through it. Whether he’d done so of his own accord or been literally put through the door, Jihu didn’t know. Didn’t particularly care, because the guy was coming at him and he was scrabbling backwards trying to avoid getting squashed.

Jihu just managed to roll, his chains pulling him up short and jarring the crap out of him as the intruder hit the floor hard. Jihu felt the hit as well as heard it, and he strained against his chains, trying to turn to see who was beside him.

Jihu didn’t recognise the man, who was unconscious and bleeding profusely from his head. He quickly jerked his gaze down the man’s body and frowned. He just couldn’t tell if the big man belonged to Chul or Chung-Hee. If he was Chung-Hee’s…

Jihu’s head throbbed as adrenalin surged with hope, ramping up his pulse. He could hear the sounds of fighting but couldn’t pay them much attention. Not when he saw the slim rounded edge of a key ring glinting above the opening of the unconscious guard’s pocket. Chung-Hee and his guards had always carried the keys to the room, and his shackles, on a plain silver key ring.

Granted, the things were a dime a dozen, everyone had one, but still, that ember of hope he’d been startled by earlier was determined to grow into a steady flame, it would seem.

Jihu quickly realised he wasn’t going to be able to reach the key ring without moving the guard closer. Despite feeling as weak as a kitten, Jihu would do it. A shout startled him, but it was only more fighting outside the room. Jihu needed to get his shit together and hurry up before his opportunity was gone.

Bae was free, Jihu wanted to be, too. From what he’d heard, Chul had argued for his son’s freedom, and did indeed think of Bae as a son, unlike Jihu, who was only the result of forced copulation. Whether Chul and Shon-Ho had both agreed hardly mattered, really. Neither of them could have refused to follow Chung-Hee’s orders. Just like Jihu couldn’t, unless he proved himself smarter than he thought.

Jihu couldn’t pull the guard, he was too weak and the felled man too large. But—Jihu raised his arm and took a length of the chain in hand—he could improvise. Jihu wound the chain under the guard’s arm, up through his armpit. It wasn’t perfect, but—he stood and leant back, using his weight to pull, his gaze flitting from that hint of key ring to the guard’s face, making sure he was still out.

Untangling the chain was a little trickier, because Jihu’s hands were shaking, nerves and fear and hope flaring in him. He got the chain out from under the man then quickly grabbed the key ring, knowing he was pushing his luck. Chul was still yelling orders, as was Chung-Hee, and there were shouts and cries of pain coming at a faster rate than there had been.

Jihu plucked the keys out and gaped at them. His heart slammed against his ribs and he actually had a moment of dizziness before he snapped out of his stupor.
Move move move!
He’d worry about how to escape and ensure Chung-Hee couldn’t follow through on his threat later, once he got the shackles off.

Stop shaking
, he willed his hands. He didn’t have time to fall apart. Jihu found the key, glad he’d paid so much attention to it. It wasn’t any different than many keys, except for the numbers on it. Jihu had always had a very good memory for such things and since there were over twenty-five keys to pick from, knowing the exact one he needed was very helpful.

Freeing his feet and his right hand was easy. Being left-handed was a quirk he’d always been teased over, but Jihu liked being different from the other shifters he knew. Getting the shackle off that wrist was harder, but Chung-Hee yelled out for Chul’s death, and that was a spur to Jihu’s backside.

What kind of father ordered his own son’s death? Jihu mentally laughed at his stupidity. He knew what kind of father did that, the same kind who would order his grandson shackled and forced to perform sexually, who would threaten others of his own blood.

Jihu huffed. He didn’t have time for this. He checked the guard for a weapon, anything to fight with since he couldn’t shift. All he found was lint and some change, neither of which would do him any good in a fight. Jihu was counting on Chung-Hee wanting him alive, what with his precious viable sperm and all.

He stood and edged up against the wall. Now that he could, Jihu watched the chaos outside the room. There was blood and people were down, although he didn’t know if they were dead or just hurt.
Chul
—Jihu’s chest ached with worry for the man. It was a stupid, stupid reaction because Chul didn’t know him or give a shit about him, and yet Jihu wanted him to. God, but he was such an idiot. Jihu kept his gaze on Chul as he battled with two of Chung-Hee’s guards.

There were no others fighting, so Jihu assumed Chul’s guards were down. It wasn’t looking good for Chul. Jihu was torn, part of him wanting to come to Chul’s aid and the other part of him wanting to leave the man to his fate. But the fact was, Jihu had to escape, and that meant going out of the door, or what was left of it, and entering into the room where the fighting was taking place. Jihu wasn’t averse to fighting, but he truly wasn’t sure whose side to take.

Chul might be no different than Chung-Hee. True, they were at odds, but it might simply be that Chul wanted to lead the lepe and to do that he had to unseat the current leader. Jihu could go out there and help him then wind up in the same position he’d been in—or worse. The fact was Jihu didn’t know Chul or his motives, not for fighting Chung-Hee nor for allowing his son Bae to leave the lepe.

Jealousy was an ugly thing but Jihu couldn’t help feeling it when he thought of Bae being free. Gay, unwilling to compromise and procreate with a female, and having happily settled with his true destined mate, Bae was an inspiration to Jihu at the same time he was the centre of Jihu’s envy. Jihu didn’t know about the whole gay and mate thing, but he sure as hell wanted the freedom. And not just for himself.

He crept closer to the doorway. Chul was slowing, his breath coming in harsh pants, but he had taken down one of the two guards he’d been fighting. For an old guy, Chul seemed to be pretty bad-assed. Jihu was impressed despite trying not to be. He wondered if Bae, who’d actually got to grow up with Chul for a father, was capable of fighting like that.

Chul landed a hard chop to the last guard’s throat. A sickening sound emanated from the impact and Jihu’s stomach tried to crawl up his throat. Jihu pressed a hand to his abdomen and watched as Chul stepped back, bloodied and none too steady. He looked at his father, Chung-Hee, and growled, “I will take you, too, if I must, Father, but I would rather end this now.”

Jihu couldn’t see Chung-Hee, but he heard the hateful man’s laugh and it gave him chills.

“We shall end this now,” Chung-Hee said calmly, almost happily, and Jihu saw in Chul’s expression the same knowledge he had. Chul’s life was about to end.

“No!” Jihu shouted, the word ripping from him before he could even consider if he wanted to say it. He’d never actually met his father, had been brought to this lepe and held prisoner, knowing Chul lived here, and that had been a certain kind of hell. In that flash of a moment, with the gun pointing at Chul, Jihu realised a longing to meet his father, to stand in front of him and ask Chul if he knew what he’d done, helping to bring children into this world that were then abused as Jihu was being abused.

And now, he’d never have a chance to confront his father, or possibly have a relationship with him. The thought hurt and Jihu’s body seemed not to be his own any more than his mouth, because he leapt forward, intending to do God knew what. His brain apparently hadn’t caught up with either his mouth or his muscles, because Jihu had no plan.

It didn’t matter, though. His shout was unheeded and drowned out by the thunderous sound of gunshot. A red spot appeared on Chul’s chest, quickly growing in size as Chul stumbled backwards, shock widening his eyes, his lips parting on a pained gasp.

Jihu skidded to a stop inside the door. Getting shot was not going to help him or anyone else. His head was buzzing and his ears ringing and he couldn’t quite process what he was seeing. Chul flailing, blood bubbling from his mouth. Jihu’s squicky stomach got it, though. He heaved and slapped a hand over his mouth, knowing he couldn’t draw attention to himself.

Chung-Hee shouted for more guards—and—whether the lepe leader was upset or something else, Jihu didn’t know, and it didn’t matter. What did matter was that he heard Chung-Hee walking away.
Away from me.

Jihu glanced at the father he had never known. He wondered what had happened, why Chul had decided to take Chung-Hee on. Chul’s eyes were closed, his chest barely rising and falling. He was still alive, then, but Jihu couldn’t stay to witness him passing onto whatever lay after this life. Whether Chul had meant to or not, he’d provided Jihu with a chance he might never get again, and Jihu couldn’t risk being caught. It wasn’t just his life at stake.

Still, he paused beside Chul, squatted and touched the man’s cheek. “I am sorry, Father. I wish—” It didn’t matter what he wished, he had to go. Jihu might have had his shifter senses screwed up, but that just meant the footsteps he heard approaching were close and he needed to get the hell out of there. Jihu risked one more touch, then he stood and ran, his own footsteps lighter as he wore no shoes.

Chul began screaming then—a terrible, haunting sound. Jihu didn’t know why, if it was pain or—and his heart so wanted it to be this instead—that Chul knew Jihu was escaping and his screams covered the slight sounds of Jihu’s steps. Surely not that, yet something about the timing of the screams kept him from being able to extinguish that hope.

Jihu knew where he was going. He slammed open the door to the large cabin and nearly ran over a young girl on her way in. “Sorry,” he muttered, stupid with manners when he was nude and obviously fleeing. He didn’t look back.

It was dark outside, the night air cold on his bare skin, but Jihu didn’t care. Fear and hope made him alternately sweat then shiver. He reached the smaller cabin, the one he’d been taken to first. Jihu ran up the steps and grabbed the door handle, grateful it turned. Otherwise he’d have likely concussed himself slamming into the thick wooden door.

Inside the cabin was the woman who had been there when Jihu had arrived. He growled at her now, curling his hands into fists. Jihu had never believed in hitting a female but he thought for her he could make an exception.

She growled back, baring canines elongated and deadly. Jihu couldn’t do the same, not when his Amur leopard was stuck in some sort of weird catatonic state inside him.

“Back off, Sun-ja,” someone said from behind him.

Jihu spun around enough to see who had arrived, but still didn’t let Sun-ja out of his sight. The man who’d spoken was shorter than him and looked like he could be one of his half-brothers. He confirmed it when he spoke.

“My name is Ye-sun. I am one of Chul’s sons with his wife.”

Jihu wondered if that was supposed to make him feel better, or trust Ye-sun, because it didn’t. Ye-sun blinked then shook his head.

“Sorry, that was meant to reassure you since we are brothers—”

“We aren’t,” Jihu said, cutting him off. They might have shared some of the same DNA but he wouldn’t allow that to be used against him.

“We
are
,” Ye-sun stubbornly argued. “I don’t care if we’ve never met. I must have dozens of siblings out there, and they are all my siblings regardless if we never meet.”

“You’re a fool,” Sun-ja snapped, and Jihu thought she meant him until he saw that she was shaking a finger at Ye-sun. “You think Chung-Hee will not punish you? You think you are the favoured grandson?”

“I am, but that doesn’t matter.” Ye-sun glanced behind him then looked at Jihu. “You need help, and I’m offering. Get what you came for and let’s go.”

Sun-ja shrieked and dove for the bundle but Jihu was faster. He wasn’t going to leave until he had what he had come to the cabin for.

“You cannot! Chung-Hee will find you!”

Jihu ignored Sun-ja, ignored her fists pummelling his back, her small feet kicking his calves.

“Cut it out, Sun-ja, or I’ll deck you myself,” Ye-sun snarled. He pried the woman off Jihu. “Give me a sec. Or no, take the bag there, on the table, and run. At the cabin with the green wreath on the door is a car. If I’m not there in two minutes after you get there, leave.”

Jihu was stunned, but not stunned stupid. He didn’t know whether Ye-sun was lying to him, but it seemed as stupid for him to lie as it would be for Jihu to follow Ye-sun’s orders. Jihu could see no way for Ye-sun to benefit from helping him, but he could not see any way sending him off with his precious cargo would harm Ye-sun, either.

And so Jihu gave a curt nod and he ran, his infant son in one arm and the bag that he hoped had supplies for the babe on the other.

Chapter Two

“‘Just take care of the dog,’ they said. ‘It’s not like you can’t work from our place. We
need
you, Gilbert, someone has to take care of Abbie and Zeus. It’ll be a breeze.’” Gilbert Trujillo glared at the mess the two Brittany spaniel puppies had made. “I’m gonna be dead meat, pups. Thanks.”

The cushions from Isaiah and Bae’s couch had been shredded. The moulding at the base of the wall? Yeah, that’d been chewed, too, all along one wall. “God, I am so dead.”

Abbie and Zeus wagged their tails at him, looking for all the world like they’d done the best thing ever. Of course, maybe destroying the living room
was
the pinnacle of puppyhood. Gilbert would swear those two were smirking at him. He narrowed his eyes and shook a finger at them.