Top Assassins Call Me The Lady Boss-Chapter 120: Fearful for the first time

Chapter Hundred and Twenty

"Markus..." Her voice was soft, strangled. Too soft.

His eyes darted to her body in his arms. Matilda lay sprawled on the glossy café floor, her legs folded awkwardly beneath her, crimson staining the sleeve of her blue dress.

Blood. Too many of them.

Her blood soaked into the floor beneath her like ink from a spilled bottle, spreading and pooling.

"Matilda!" he was already moving.

Her skin was getting cold, and clammy.

"It... it hurts," she whimpered again, her voice shaky, barely above a breath. "So much..."

"I know," he breathed, voice hoarse with disbelief. "I know, just, just hang in there, alright? You are going to be fine. You are going to be okay."

She winced as he adjusted her, pressing his palm over the wound. Blood seeped through his fingers.

"Don’t... don’t let me die on my birthday," she whispered, half a plea, half a joke but her lips were trembling, and her eyelids were fluttering.

"Shut up," he muttered, his feet doing their purpose. "You are not dying."

Markus turned on his heel and ran.

Outside, people were screaming and scattering, trying to get away from the scene. No one dared stop him as he carried her to his car, blood soaking into his shirt, his jaw clenched so tight it ached.

He opened the passenger door, eased her in, strapped her in with one arm, slammed his door shut, and floored the accelerator.

Tires screamed.

He did not care about the horns blasting at him and did not register the blinding headlights that swerved to avoid his reckless turns.

His only focus was the girl bleeding beside him, slumped against the seat, her breaths uneven.

"Stay awake, Matilda," he barked, glancing at her, then back at the road.

"I am... trying..." she whispered, eyes fluttering again. freёweɓnovel.com

His hand found hers and gripped it hard. "Then try harder." His tone was softer than the usual tone he always used for her.

Every red light was a green to hum. Every speed limit was a joke also. He took corners at impossible angles, weaving through traffic like a man possessed.

He swore at a driver who tried to cut him off, then pushed the car faster. The Villa was not far, but every second felt like an hour.

When he screeched to a stop at the gates, they opened without him needing to slow. The guards must have seen his face and the fury look in his eyes, even his fear, and knew better than to ask questions.

He barely let the car stop before he was pulling her out again, shouting for the doctor.

"Open the damn door!" he barked at the house staff, storming in with her in his arms.

The moment they saw the blood, they scattered, voices rising as they called for help.

Markus ignored them all. He carried her straight to the guest room closest to the hallway, his steps fast, heavy, determined.

"She got shot," he shouted the moment the doctor arrived. "She needs help. Now."

The doctor didn’t waste time. "Lay her on the bed."

He did. Gently.

She let out a soft groan as she landed on the mattress.

"I need space," the doctor said. "You too."

Markus hesitated, his fingers still stained red, and breathing erratic.

"I said out."

He left the room, only to find Ahmet blocking the hallway.

"What happened?" Ahmet asked, eyes sharp, voice low.

"She was shot," Markus replied, too blunt, too loud. "We were attacked."

Ahmet’s brows drew together. "And you brought her here?"

"She was bleeding out. What the fuck else was I supposed to do?"

"You know strangers are not allowed here, Markus," Ahmet’s tone shifted, a little colder, and more commanding.

Markus stepped forward, shoulders squared. "She is not a stranger to Asli. That makes her important. Just like I am important to you."

Ahmet did not reply immediately. His eyes flicked past Markus, toward the room.

"The girl better not be a liability."

"She’s not." Markus was getting angry and Ahmet must’ve gotten it. Markus had never been scared before.

"I know." Ahmet finally said as he tapped his back trying to calm him down.

The doctor stepped out after an hour, wiping her hands with a stained towel. "She is fine," she announced, with a trace of amusement. "The bullet passed clean through her shoulder but it did not touch anything vital. You would think it was a headshot, the way Markus was barking orders and reacting. He could’ve even removed the bullet herself."

Markus gave her a sideways glare. "I was not panicking."

"Sure," she muttered, smirking. "She’s sedated. She will sleep for a while."

With that, the doctor brushed past them and vanished down the corridor.

Markus sighed. He wished he could laugh at himself. He hadn’t noticed where she got shot. He saw her being shot and his emotions were all over the place.

Ahmet also sighed. "I have got things to handle. Try to take some rest too."

He left.

Markus lingered in the hallway, the silence pressing in.

The blood was still on his hands.

His shirt was ruined, soaked with it.

He turned and made his way to his room, changing into clean clothes. The water ran crimson when he washed his hands. Still, he could smell the metallic and sharp scent.

When he returned to the guest room, it was quiet. Peaceful.

Matilda was fast asleep, her chest rising and falling gently. The bandages were tight around her shoulder. Her face was pale but calm.

He pulled a chair closer and sat down beside her. His phone buzzed with messages from his men. Updates. Leads. Questions.

He answered with a few clipped replies, giving orders, asking for names, camera footage, anything to identify who the hell had dared to attack him.

Because someone had fucked up.

Someone had touched what was his to protect... for a day. It was her birthday for crying out loud!

His jaw clenched as he stared at her resting form.

Anger burned slow and deep in his chest, like coals in a dying fire, constant and smoldering.

A tiny voice inside him asked why he was so angry.

Was it just duty?

He looked at her again. Matilda, the annoying, giggly teenager who kept pestering him for reasons he had no idea about.

The girl who tried to flirt her way out of training, he knew that at least. The one who always wanted more attention than he was willing to give.

Now bleeding in his guest room.

He exhaled a sharp and bitter sigh of relief.

"Because no one messes with me," he muttered under his breath. "That is why."

That was the truth.

He hated failing. Hated slipping up. Hated that under his care and his watch, someone had gotten to her.

Someone dared to attack him and ended up taking a shot and landing it.

His fist curled on his thigh.

This was not over.

Not by a long shot.

The minutes passed slowly, marked only by the occasional flicker of Matilda’s lashes or the beep of Markus’s phone vibrating against the table. He didn’t glance at it anymore.

His attention was elsewhere; on the rise and fall of her chest, on the faint wrinkle of pain that sometimes creased her brow even in sleep. The sedative had dulled the pain but it seemed it hadn’t wiped it clean.

She stirred once, a soft breath catching, and his spine went taut.

But she didn’t wake up.

Markus leaned back in the chair, pressing his fingers against his temples. His jaw clenched so tightly, while his teeth ached. His muscles were coiled like wires wound too tight.

She had forced him to take her out. She was supposed to have fun. A simple birthday outing. A coffee shop after a long day of keeping her entertained while nursing his own boredom. And then... chaos. Screams. Gunfire and Blood?

His knuckles cracked as he flexed his fists. This was going to haunt him for good. Asli was going to freak out, he knew that.

He should have seen it coming. Should have anticipated the signs. The weird atmosphere. The unfamiliar faces hang around too long. The subtle glances, the jittery barista.

He had noticed them all but brushed them off because she said their stuff was good. He wanted to please her after getting her angry at the bowling place.

Why?

Because he wanted to see her smile again?

Because he had let his guard down for one damn day and for what?

His phone vibrated again. He was getting tired of hearing the notifications. He snatched it and glanced at the message. Name that flashed got a reaction from him. It was Asli, asking how the birthday outing was going.

What was he supposed to say? She had jumbed over their wall to get to the father of Matilda’s buoy, what would she do if she found out Matilda was laying in here, shot?