Top Assassins Call Me The Lady Boss
Chapter 122: Dreadful move

Chapter 122: Dreadful move

Chapter Hundred and Twenty-Two

Though he was waiting for the location to be sent, he couldn’t stay still in his room. He wanted to see her. He wanted to make sure she was okay and resting.

He sighed, what was happening to him? Was scaring him not enough? She was okay now and all stitched up, why was he still worried?

A location ping. One of the men had followed a suspect who had fled the scene and was reporting it to him.

Good.

He typed a message back: "Bring him to me. Alive."

He tossed the phone in the car seat and stared ahead, his expression cold, and dangerous.

The black interior of the car felt too bright, though it wasn’t. He closed his eyes for a bit and was met with the girl on the bed with bandages around her shoulder.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself, eyes narrowing. "She was your responsibility." it was going to gnaw at him until God knew when.

A flash of her face also came to mind, when she was grinning while bowling, pouting when he refused to play, laughing when she tried to flirt, even though he never smiled back.

At that point he felt at ease, then suddenly it came again; the image shifted her eyes wide with pain, blood spreading across her dress.

His fists tightened again.

A knock came at the car window. He turned his head slightly, not speaking.

He later rolled the window down, just a bit, and one of the Villa staff peeked through. "Sir, Matilda was asking if you. Should I tell her you are here?"

He stared blankly at the man.

The staff member paled a bit. "Just in case she stays up late waiting for you."

Markus waved him off with a curt gesture. The man vanished as quickly as he had come.

He looked towards the door as if contemplating if he should go back in.

Asli was still in there. She was going to start all over again. His cheek still stung faintly from her punch. Fair.

Before, he never minded her when she called her names or said things about him being incompetent because he wasn’t incompetent, he was just pretending to be.

However, having her call him incompetent when he had failed something for the first time, he felt it.

’Incompetent.’ It echoed in his head. A wince followed. The pain was there, buried deep.

He could feel it just remembering the pain that danced in her eyes while she bled. The wound might heal, faster or slower, but the moment would stay. It always did and for her, she would never leave her memory. It was her birthday.

He leaned forward, resting his palms on his steering wheel. His fingers steepled in front of his lips after.

This was so unlike him. Why was he in a total mess?

The fire hadn’t died down. If anything, it was spreading. Crawling from his chest into his limbs. Rage, more rage... they were steady yet silent.

He tried to make sense of his feelings. He tried to recall the scene.

’Someone had aimed at me and missed. Instead, they hit Matilda. They were not after me in the first place. So why would they even hurt Matilda? Why am I angry? Why am I blaming myself? I never cared.’ he continued to think.

Even if Ahmet got shot, he just teased him and they called it a day. Ahmet always did the same with him. Was it because Matilda knew nothing about the life he was used to?

He had enemies. Fine. He welcomed them. But they didn’t get to touch what was his.

Since when did Matilda become his?

He exhaled sharply and picked up his phone again. Then sent another message.

"Shapen the longest knife. I’m gouging their eyes out." He let the message sit pretty on his phone.

He didn’t care about questions or answers anymore. Didn’t care if this had been a warning, a mistake, a test, or a declaration.

Already, the moment someone pointed a gun in his direction, there were no negotiations. Let alone involving another person.

A soft tap on the passenger window shattered his thoughts.

He turned sharply.

Matilda stood there, wrapped in the oversized hoodie, her hair still slightly damp from the quick shower she must have taken.

His oversized hoodie. His.

Her brows were pinched in that familiar way, stubborn, but unsure.

Markus reached across and unlocked the door. She slid in slowly, one hand pressed lightly to her shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" His voice came out a little rougher than he meant.

She didn’t answer right away. She adjusted herself in the seat with a faint wince, then leaned back, watching him.

"You’ve been sitting out here for almost hours if not ages," she said softly. "I thought you left."

"I did, but I came back. I was just... thinking."

Matilda studied him in the small space. "You looked mad."

He didn’t reply.

"You still look mad," she asked again and he wondered what she was talking about. Why would he be mad? Why should he?

He let out a short breath. "I’m not mad."

She raised a brow. Still not believing him

He sighed. "I am not mad," he repeated, eyes forward, hands gripping the wheel again. "I am furious."

"At me?"

Markus turned then, finally meeting her gaze. "No. At whoever thought it was okay to pull guns at a damn coffee shop. At whoever targeted us." His jaw tightened. "At myself for not seeing it coming."

Silence settled between them for a moment.

Then Matilda said, "I did not think it’d hurt that much, being shot."

Then Matilda said, "I did not think it would hurt that much, being shot."

He didn’t say anything and so she pushed, saying what she hadn’t intended to say all along.

"I did not think it would hurt you that much, seeing me getting shot."

"No." He quickly said.

"Okay." She didn’t push. But he saw the look in her eyes.

Was that what this feeling was about? The scene of her shot and covered in blood did not shake him up because of his anger. It wasn’t because he failed the ’act to protect’ her but it was because of her.

It was entirely her.

It didn’t make any sense. He was sure he didn’t like her in that manner.

Since when? Did it take this scene for him to realize it?

This was impossible.

Markus looked at her again.

"I mean..." he tried to reach out to her, to change the look he was staring at him with. But stopped before he could do that.

When she noticed it, she reached out to him and he froze.

She flinched at his reaction.

"Matilda?" he whispered. He was scared. For the second time in his life, he was scared and it was all because of this tiny little girl.

He swallowed.

She tried to smile, but it failed. She looked hurt and he felt himself questioning if what he did was right.

Oh, Matilda was suddenly beautiful before his eyes.

What was wrong with him? His head was broken.

Something suddenly tugged at him. Something primal and impulsive.

Before he even realized what he was doing, Markus turned slightly in his seat. His hand reached out slowly, and cautiously as though even the air between them might shatter. His fingers brushed her jawline, gently. Testing.

She blinked, her eyes opening just enough to meet his gaze.

His thumb rested lightly against her cheek.

Her skin was warm and it reminded him of when he was at peace so many decades ago.

Their eyes locked and at that moment he knew if he moved he would do something stupid. Something he would regret and never even forgive himself for.

Her lips parted, just slightly to say something but nothing came out.

His heart pounded in his chest violently. It was a warning. A threat maybe. That he shouldn’t say anything or do anything.

But then, it was too late.

Matilda just inched forward, the space between them collapsing. He should’ve moved away but instead, he froze.

His breath caught in his throat.

’What the hell am I doing?’ but it wasn’t his fault. She had pushed her lips forward to meet his.

But it was his fault he wasn’t pushing her away. It would be his fault if he didn’t do anything.

He pulled back so fast it was almost jerky. His hand dropped into his lap, and his eyes flew to the windshield like he had been burned.

His heart thundered even more now but not with anger, nor confusion.

It was dread.

Asli’s face flashed in his mind. The always sharp, protective, and always watching gaze she had over Matilda flashed back at him.

She would tear him apart. She would eviscerate him.

Markus sat stiffly, his fingers now digging into the leather of the steering wheel. He did not dare look at Matilda.

What would she do?

She was quiet beside him, still, like she was trying to piece together what just almost happened.

And what it might have meant.

He swallowed hard.

’She’s just a girl...’ his thoughts wouldn’t let him be. ’No. She’s eighteen now. She’s a woman. You can’t keep hiding or pushing that behind.’ another part of him reminded himself and he wished it were true.

His thoughts spiraled.

He had to apologize to her. If he hadn’t inched his face toward her, she wouldn’t have...

He turned to look at her and apologize. However, he was met with a smile on her face.