Top Assassins Call Me The Lady Boss novel Chapter 148

Chapter 148: "Yes, sir!"

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Eight

He looked up then, eyes burning, and stripped of illusion.

"But if she tries anything again... anything worth killing over, no one would survive either." A pause. Then, colder. "I’ll end it.

"Markus didn’t move. He didn’t flinch and knew he would’ve done the same thing.

Ahmet dragged a hand down his face, breathing through his nose now, forcing the beast back where it belonged. "Not today," he muttered. "Not tomorrow. I don’t even want to look at her. I don’t want her voice in my head again. I don’t even want to be reminded of her scent."

He looked up then, his eyes burning red, and stripped of illusion.

"But if she tries anything again... anything worth killing her, no one would survive either." A pause. Then, colder. "I’ll end her."

Silence settled between them, thick and final.

"She crossed the line," Ahmet said. "Pulled the trigger. That’s it."

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling like it had answers.

For a moment, something old stirred; totally uninvited, unwelcome. Not her face. Not her voice. The power. That was what had drawn him first. The way she carried it like a blade hidden under silk, the way rooms bent without her raising a hand. He had power too, enough to level cities, and still, he’d wanted to know how it would feel to stand beside someone who could match it. To touch that fire without flinching.

Somewhere along the way, curiosity had curdled into something softer. Stupider. A tightness in his chest he didn’t recognize, and a reckless hope that she felt it too.

He had misjudged the cost.

The burn of it was sharper than the bullet, and what made it more unbearable wasn’t that she’d tried to kill him, it was that he had walked into it willingly. He hated himself for that. For ever wanting her. For ever reaching.

"We’re strangers again," he finished. "Whatever we were... doesn’t exist anymore."

And this time, there was no grief in his voice.

Only teeth and rage.

For a few seconds, none of them moved. They let the room settle around them.

Ahmet was first to break the silence with a sigh, letting his body speak before his mind interfered. Pain answered everywhere at once. Deep. Layered and honest.

Good.

It meant he was alive.

Markus was sitting nearby, half in shadow, watching him the way men did when they weren’t sure whether to intervene or wait. He straightened when Ahmet shifted again.

"Don’t," Markus said, already rising. "You need..."

Ahmet pushed himself up.

The motion was slow but deliberate, every muscle protesting as if offended by the command. His jaw tightened. He didn’t make a sound. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and planted his feet on the floor, steadying himself with one hand against the table.

Markus swore under his breath. "You’re not ready."

Ahmet lifted his head. His gaze was sharp now, stripped of weakness, stripped of whatever softness had ever lived there.

"Prepare the car."

Markus froze, not because of the order, but because of the tone. There was no anger in it. No urgency. Just certainty.

"You should recover first."

Ahmet stood.

The room tilted briefly. He adjusted without thinking, shifting his weight until the world fell back into place. He reached for his jacket, fingers brushing fabric like it was a familiar weapon.

"I’ve rested," he said.

Markus stepped closer. "You were unconscious for two days."

"And awake long enough to understand what that costs," Ahmet replied. "Now move."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with history and blood and things neither of them needed to name.

"What are we doing?" Markus asked finally.

Ahmet pulled the jacket on, rolling his shoulders once as if testing armor. Pain flared again, sharp and clean. He welcomed it.

"We’re taking one of Marco’s warehouses."

Markus’s eyes narrowed. "Which one?"

"The Eastern one. The quiet one. The one he hides behind the police who think nothing ever happens there."

"That place is fortified," Markus said, and Ahmet caught it immediately; the way the joke didn’t come, the way the words landed heavier than they should have. It wasn’t a doubt. It wasn’t fear either. It was concern, stripped bare and left unmasked for half a second.

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