Top Assassins Call Me The Lady Boss novel Chapter 125

Chapter 125: The Time Has Come

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five

Asli stood frozen in the middle of her room, staring at the dead phone in her hand like it had betrayed her. The infuriating click rang louder than the conversation itself. Ahmet hadn’t even let her speak. He hadn’t cared to listen to why she sounded angry.

The silence that followed was heavier than shouting, crueler than an insult. Her breath came shallow and uneven, fingers locked stiffly around the phone as if she could still drag him back by sheer will. But the line was dead. And so was whatever trust had still clung between them like threads in a storm.

She was now acknowledging the fact that she had trusted him without knowing.

She did not sit. She could not. Her legs had lost all sense of function, as though her body knew something her mind was not ready to accept.

Stillness wrapped around her chest like a tightening noose. Her lungs felt too small. Her skin was too tight. And inside her, a darkness unfurled. Becoming quieter, vast, yet seething.

She had been pacing for over an hour— barefoot, her heels discarded by the door, her jacket long since flung over the couch. Her mind reeled, spinning and snapping like a blade loosened from its grip.

The printed documents she had thrown at Markus earlier lay scattered across the floor like shattered illusions.

But she needed more.

Something told her... no, warned her that this wasn’t everything. She could not afford another surprise. Not after this.

With trembling fingers, she opened her phone again and began making calls, her voice clipped and terse. She did not need apologies or excuses... which her guys told her she was going to get.

She needed data.

"I want every street surveillance footage from Sector 4 through 9 over the last three months. Government channels only. I need the top-tier encryption. I don’t want rerouted feeds, I want the originals. I will send you the number plates you need to track."

She didn’t wait for a confirmation before ending the call. She sent Markus’ and Ahmet’s location, car tags and specs, and license plates.

Her throat tightened with each minute she waited. The dryness crawled like sand down her esophagus.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Then her tablet buzzed.

The first file opened— video stills, stacked one over the other in crisp resolution. Each one cutting through her gut like a glass shard.

However...

There it was.

Her car.

Her unmistakable, uniquely customized matte black coupe. And right behind it, just half a block away was Ahmet’s SUV.

Same street.

Same damn corner.

Over and over and again.

Days and Nights.

Her chest caved, breath knocked from her like she had been struck. It was not once or twice. She counted six times in less than three weeks.

How could she have been so careless?

She reached for the edge of her desk and gripped it like a lifeline, her knuckles whitening.

If anyone from her father’s intelligence unit were to lay hands on these feeds... if someone handed it to Demir, she would be compromised. If her father found this footage, she was as good as dead.

No explanation would make sense. No fabricated excuse would survive the scrutiny. She would not just lose her father’s trust. She would lose her command and her position.

Her life, maybe. Her honor? Everything was already dangling by a thread.

Markus had warned her in his way, hadn’t he? Or was it just a coincidence? Did he mean he knew about her and Ahmet or did he mean something else?

She was conflicted. More conflicted.

If Markus knew, why was he quiet about it?

If so, then his silence had been its own kind of mercy. He could tell her father but chose not to expose her.

Not yet.

Minutes ago, he had held up the mirror and dared her to look for evidence to implicate him.

Now she had the footage.

And what stared back was not the leader her adoptive father trained.

It was a fool.

A woman was tangled in the strings of a man who was supposed to be her enemy.

A woman who... somewhere along the way had started hoping Ahmet would walk in after his missions.

A woman who had once smiled into her wine glass when he wasn’t watching. A woman who had pressed her lips to his and hadn’t regretted it.

Even if she were to lie about stalking Ahmet to know his whereabouts to plan where exactly to kill him, they could tell people the truth and in case she almost forgot, Ahmet had pictures of her and evidence of her. It was what had her running to him whenever he called.

She shoved the tablet across the table, her hands trembling, and walked away.

But her feet didn’t stop at the threshold.

They carried her to the other side of her room, into her private weapons room, where she only opened it when there was going to be something close to a world war.

The walls were lined with blades, firearms, rifles she knew by weight and recoil. She did not pause. She did not think.

Her fingers danced over each shelf like they knew exactly what they needed.

A Glock. Two silencers. Ammunition. Knives. Tactical vest. Bombs.

Her movements were practiced... no, too practiced. She was slipping into her old skin, the one she had buried deep under the role of "daughter" and "Commander." The ruthless self. The quiet executioner.

She was what the top Assassins called the Lady Boss. She had almost forgotten who she was!

Even if she were to tell them Ahmet blackmailed her... _{free\we\bnov(e)(l).com}

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