Top Assassins Call Me The Lady Boss novel Chapter 142

Chapter 142: “Where the hell is he?”

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Two

Markus paced Ahmet’s bedroom, his boots thudding against the polished floor. Each step was sharp, anxious, a rhythm born from nerves fraying tighter with every unanswered call.

His phone had rung off against his hand more times than he could count, and each vibration that went unanswered tightened a coil in his chest.

He had expected the SOS. He knew Ahmet like he knew the rise and fall of the sun. If anything had gone wrong, the alert would have screamed across his devices. But there was nothing. Nothing except silence.

He checked his schedule again. Every meeting had been cleared, every call deferred, every appointment canceled to make time to see Asli.

Markus had argued, once. Quietly. Carefully. He’d offered to come along, to wait outside, to be close enough if things turned ugly. Ahmet had shut it down with a look that ended discussions. This was his mess. His words to speak. His to fix.

So Markus stayed behind and waited. And waited. And waited... till he couldn’t wait anymore.

Now the hours had stretched thin and his calls still went unanswered. Nothing searched was useful. And when he’d finally reached his contact inside her Villa, the answer had come back clean and wrong all at once.

She was home. That much he had confirmed. And yet, Ahmet wasn’t here. Not answering. Not appearing. Not even leaving a trace.

A cold dread settled in his stomach, crawling up his ribs. He hated fear. Hated feeling out of control. And yet, he could not force the thought from his mind: What if she...?

No. He shook his head, fingers tugging at his coat. Ahmet was powerful. Unstoppable in ways most men could never be. He had survived death before, laughed at bullets, and danced through fire.

And... but then... this was Asli.

He froze mid-step, imagining the two of them with their history, the hatred, the fire, and underneath it, the something else that nobody in the world understood. The something that had made even the ruthless Ahmet yield, just slightly, just enough to be vulnerable.

Markus ran a hand through his hair and muttered under his breath. "No one touches him... no one. Not even her... not anyone."

And yet, the silence mocked him.

He could only pace. Could only listen for the faintest sound of a door opening, a gunshot, a single breath from the hall that might tell him he was too late or just in time.

Markus stopped pacing.

The movement had become useless anyway too much thought trapped in too small a space. He walked towards the door and stopped, phone hanging loose in his hand, the screen dark now from too many unanswered calls. Silence pressed against his ears, thick and wrong. Before he knew it, he was inside his car and driving away from their Villa.

The warehouse pulled at him first.

That was where she had asked Ahmet to meet her. Not anywhere strange or unfamiliar. Not even on a neutral ground.

Her warehouse. She wanted somewhere private. Somewhere she would control. A place where she had killed about a thousand or more. A place where her subordinates feared when she called them but this was Ahmet. He wasn’t her subordinate. Her warehouse was a place where mistakes didn’t leave witnesses.

His jaw tightened at the thought of it... the thought of Ahmet lying cold on the floor and in the dark.

Where was Ahmet?

If something had gone wrong, this was where it could have happened.

Markus was already moving before the thought finished forming. As he stepped inside, the place seemed to expand around him, the space stretching wider and higher than he remembered, as if the walls had quietly pulled away.

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