Top Assassins Call Me The Lady Boss-Chapter 106: "She is a kind boss, though she wouldn’t accept it."

Chapter Hundred and Six

"Don’t do anything stupid," Asli muttered, her hand gripping the door handle as Markus killed the engine. They both stared at the warehouse ahead. It was a dull and quiet structure under the broken light poles.

Markus tilted his head and grinned. "You wound me. Do I look like the type to do anything stupid?"

She raised an unimpressed brow. "Yes. Yes, you do."

He laughed softly. Asli scanned the surroundings, noting the men loitering near the building. "There are eight of them. No guns," she said firmly.

He blinked. "Wait, you mean us or them?"

"You, Markus. You. I mean you. No guns. A single bullet might set off a bomb or worse. It will warn whoever’s inside. We go in quietly."

He sighed, already getting out. "Define quiet," he muttered under his breath. "We just pulled up in front of their gates."

They moved fast. The night swallowed their steps as they slipped from shadow to shadow. The first man didn’t see Asli coming until her elbow cracked against his jaw, sending him reeling into a heap.

Another lunged, only for her to duck and sweep his legs from under him. Two down in three seconds.

Markus swung a punch, wild and clumsy, catching his opponent in the nose. It was more by accident than aim. "Boom! That’s the Markus special."

She rolled her eyes, ducking another swing and jabbing her opponent in the ribs. ’He has a sloppy form. If I trained him, he could be a hell of a fighter.’ she thought to herself.

Still, she couldn’t deny it that he was growing on her, in a brotherly, chaotic kind of way.

By the time the last man slumped to the ground, moaning, Asli was barely out of breath. Markus, on the other hand, was panting like he had run a marathon.

"Told you," he gasped, "quiet-ish."

They circled the warehouse slowly, stepping over cracked cigarettes and weeds.

A faint murmur of voices suddenly slipped through a grime-streaked window once they neared it.

Asli crept closer, crouching beneath the ledge and rising just enough to peek inside.

Printing machines hummed.

Twenty-three people... armed and working. They were busy inside, assembling what looked like counterfeit currency.

Counterfeits? Her brows furrowed. Why would her father want this operation shut down? What game was he playing?

She stayed low, and calculating. Her mind raced through possible entry points, attack sequences, exit strategies—

Click.

The window above her shifted open.

A man leaned out, and was ready to spit. His eyes met hers and he froze immediately.

She reacted on instinct. Her fist snapped up, cracking against his chin with bone-jarring force.

The man hit the ground with a heavy crash, knocking over a metal stool on his way down. Every head in the room snapped toward the sound, their startled voices freezing mid-sentence when they saw her standing by the window.

One of the workers dropped a wrench, the metallic clatter echoing through the hall like a warning bell.

The men straightened, and their movements were stiff with instinct.

Several of them reached for their belts, yanking open holsters with practiced urgency. Their hands moved fast... too fast for hesitation, as their fingers slid around cold steel.

The subtle click of guns disengaging filled the air like the first drops of a coming storm.

They weren’t just startled anymore. They were ready. Ready to kill them.

And Asli didn’t wait for the first shot.

Asli didn’t think, her body moved before the threat could breathe.

She grabbed the window ledge, braced her foot against the wall, and propelled herself forward. The wind whipped past her hair as she jumped through the opening, but halfway in—

Pain bloomed.

Something sharp tore against her side. The metal edge of a rusted nail caught her mid-air, dragging a thin, vicious line across her skin. It burned. Deep. Right where the gun wound from her previous fight was. It already pulsed beneath her skin.

Her landing was solid, but her breath hitched, just for a second. Blood was already warm beneath her shirt. She could feel it.

Markus vaulted in after her. freewёbnoνel.com

She ducked under a swinging arm, her fist driving into his ribcage with enough force to send the man stumbling back. Another came from the side and she pivoted, caught his wrist mid-swing, and twisted until he dropped with a grunt.

Movements blurred together... elbow, knee, strike, drop.

But then the edges of her vision began to darken. The walls seemed to pulse, breathing with her effort. The floor tilted beneath her boots, like the world had suddenly forgotten how to stay still or forgotten who she was.

She blinked, steadying herself, and forcing her body to keep moving.

To keep fighting.

Not now. Not now. She chanted to herself.

But her strength faltered. Every strike took more effort. A punch missed. A kick landed weakly.

Then—

BZZZZT!

One of the men, barely conscious, slumped against the table, his trembling fingers groping beneath it.

Click.

A soft mechanical snap echoed beneath the chaos, almost too quiet to notice.

Then the walls came alive.

Red lights burst into a frantic strobe, and a shrill, piercing alarm exploded through the hall. The sound sliced through the air like a blade. It was urgent, blaring loudly, and impossible to ignore.

Asli flinched. She knew what that meant. More were coming. And they could be coming in faster than she was imagining.

And just like she imagined, more men poured in through a side door.

"Markus!" she barked, her voice sharper than a blade. "If it gets too much, run."

He looked at her then. Really looked. His eyes dropped to her side, now soaked and dark. Blood trickled down her thigh, soaking into her clothes.

Asli was fighting though she was hurt. And though he knew he was not exactly someone she liked, she was fighting to make sure most of the men didn’t attack him.

And just like that, something shifted in him.

Asli was bleeding too much. Yet she wouldn’t stop. Her pride wouldn’t let her. She’d fight until she passed out. He sighed, thinking about it.

He had no choice.

"Time to blow my cover," he muttered under his breath. He couldn’t watch as she fought with her life. She needed help to stitch the wound.

He stepped forward.

One man swung and Markus ducked and countered, shattering his ribs with a precision punch.

Another raised his gun but Markus kicked it away, spun, and sent him flying with a roundhouse kick.

Fluid, clean, lethal. And too neat.

Asli’s eyes widened mid-fight. Her opponent barely blocked her punch, distracted by Markus dropping two more like rag dolls.

She saw it. Dammit. He knew she’d ask questions after this fight.

Seven down in under a minute. They kept coming and falling.

Then... silence.

Bodies littered the hall. None standing. No more were coming.

Markus wiped blood from his knuckles and ran to the main printer. He opened the console, yanked out a hidden flash drive and some documents.

"This," he said, holding it up, "is what we came for. Their boss hid it inside the machine."

He watched as her eyes twinkled in a questioning state.

He rushed to her, slinging her arm over his shoulder. She hissed, her shirt now drenched. She tried to move away from his hold.

"Don’t be a hero, Asli," he murmured, lifting her through the window.

She pressed her hand hard over her side, gritting her teeth. Blood had soaked her undergarments.

Every step to the car was like fire, he could tell as she tried to mask the winces that left her lips.

He had heard how she took the most dangerous part of her previous mission.

These were things he admired Asli for. They would not stop talking about how excellent of a fighter she was. And though she might not have realized it, she was a kind leader too.

Her men were saying it. She could have asked one of them to carry the bombs or cause the destruction. Yet she mentioned that all men were equal.

They would not stop talking about it in the Villa. And as if she were her sister, he was so fcking proud of her.

Once in the passenger seat, she leaned back and exhaled.

"You can fight," she said. It was not even a question.

Markus laughed, starting the engine. He was ready for the question and just as ready as he was to hear it, he was also ready to lie. "You’re hallucinating. You lost a lot of blood. You were seeing things."

"I know what I saw," she shot back. "You are a real fighter."

"You were doing all the fighting. I just followed your lead," he said smoothly, but wouldn’t meet her eyes.

She turned her face toward the window.

"Take me somewhere to change and patch this up before we go home. I’m not bleeding all over my leather seats."

He smiled faintly and nodded. "Aye, aye, Captain."