Top Assassins Call Me The Lady Boss-Chapter 185: Two bullets

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty-Five

Markus stood by the window long after Ahmet finished speaking, the glass cool beneath his palm. Everything seemed busy and calm. And yet, something about it felt newly fragile, like a house built over a fault line he’d only just discovered.

"I’ve been trying to remember," Markus said at last, his voice low. "For years."

Ahmet didn’t interrupt. He’d learned that Markus only spoke this seriously when the memories were sharp enough to cut.

"Our fathers fought," Markus went on. "Not shouting. Not the kind that draws attention. The quiet kind. The kind that makes the air heavy." He exhaled slowly. "It was about a child."

Ahmet’s brows knit. "A child?"

"Yes." Markus nodded once. "Someone who wasn’t supposed to be in the fire. The mother and aunt too." His jaw tightened as if the words tasted wrong. "Back then, I thought it was just another mission gone bad. But now... now I’m not so sure."

Ahmet shifted, the weight in his chest pressing harder.

"What if they burned the place thinking the women were not around but ended up being in there and burning too? We were barely ten," Markus continued. "I remember waking up in the middle of the night. My father was standing over me. I thought I was dreaming." A faint, humorless smile tugged at his lips. "He told me to protect everyone. Said I had his blood. That one day, I’d be strong enough to face him."

"Face who?" Ahmet asked quietly.

Markus turned from the window. His eyes were darker now, and sharper. "He didn’t say. But he wasn’t talking about himself." A pause. Then, almost reluctantly, "What if he meant Marco?"

The name settled between them like a loaded weapon.

Ahmet’s mind raced, threads tangling, then snapping into place. A child. A mother. An aunt. A fire. A lie hidden too carefully for many years.

"Markus," he said slowly, "what if that child was Asli?"

Markus stilled.

"If that’s true," he said after a moment, "then why would Marco claim it was his friend who died?"

Ahmet shook his head. "Because Marco never tells a story unless it benefits him. A friend’s death is tragic. A family being wiped out is dangerous. But if our fathers were the ones who set the fire, then I am sure her father deserved it. If he deserved it, then Marco being his friend explains it." His eyes hardened. "Let’s find out when Asli first appeared on that board. Her age. Then we track every Villa fire from that period."

Markus nodded immediately. There was no hesitation now. Only resolve.

"Why is Dad not accepting killing innocent people? If indeed the women were burnt as well, then that was a mistake he needs to own up to." Ahmet mentioned. "An apology will not settle this. Asli would have a good reason to come after us if it were true."

"I bet! You got shot when she thought you were trying to steal her Villa. Imagine what she’s going to do when she starts to avenge." Markus said.

"Maybe, she shot because I am my father’s son. She did mention that." Ahmet told without thinking about it. "Asli will kill everyone. You know how she is when she’s angry. Oh goodness! And I blackmailed her."

"You didn’t know." Markus began. "She had all the chances to kill you but she did not until she thought you wanted to steal her Villa. I don’t think she will add you to this revenge. Maybe that is why it had kept for a long time. So it is good you blackmailed her. Out of it, you two have your twisted relationship. We don’t know when she strikes. And until then," he said, already moving, and already thinking like a man preparing for war, "this place shuts down. We go on full lockdown. Nothing comes in and nothing goes out."

Ahmet followed him. "We planned for this after we began to ruin Marco’s Warehouses. We didn’t know the past would catch up eventually."

"Yes," Markus agreed. Then, quieter, more honest, "I just never thought it would come wearing her face."

He stopped, turning back to Ahmet.

"She’s coming," Markus said. "And whether she knows it or not, she’s walking into a trap that was set long before either of us understood what we were protecting."

Ahmet’s jaw tightened.

"You know that no matter what," he said. "We keep her alive."

In that moment, he didn’t care about anything. There were only two women in this world whose loss would tear something out of him beyond repair.

And Asli was one of them.

"I’ve got a couple of rounds this morning," Markus said out of nowhere, the weight in his voice evaporating, replaced with something almost careless.

Ahmet snorted, shaking his head. That was typical of him.

He watched Markus leave, then pushed off the desk and stepped into the corridor himself, already shifting into command.

He strode into the open field, and the effect was immediate. Conversations died mid-sentence. The men straightened without being told, as their fingers adjusted grips. The air tightened around him, as if everyone had instinctively remembered what they were there for.

He moved through them with purpose, eyes sharp, cataloguing positions, exits, and blind spots. A hand lifted, two fingers snapped forward, and units split exactly where he wanted them.

The grass crunched beneath his boots as he took his place at the center, gaze fixed on the gates, jaw set. Whatever day Asli and her men were coming, weren’t meeting a scattered Villa, they were meeting them prepared.

His phone buzzed.

Markus.

Ahmet answered as he walked. "What..."

"They’re on their way." Markus’ voice was rough, breath cutting in and out like he’d been running.

Ahmet stopped cold.

"Who?" even as his chest tightened, and even as he already knew, he still asked. He turned sharply, eyes scanning the men nearby. "Lock the Villa down. Now. Shut everything down."

Orders snapped through the air. All the gates began to grind as the men moved.

But, it was too late.

Engines roared outside. One after another, cars tore through the compound gates, tires screaming against concrete.

Ahmet’s breath left him in a sharp curse.

"Shit."

Ahmet didn’t move at first.

The call was still pressed to his ear, Markus’ breathing loudly. Then the first gunshot ripped through the atmosphere. Ahmet’s hand went slack.

The phone slipped from his fingers and hit the ground.

"Take cover!" Ahmet barked into the walkie-talkie. "Everyone listen. The woman stays alive. Do you hear me? I want her breathing. And protect my mother. That’s an order."

A chorus of sharp, disciplined voices cracked through the radio and across the field: "Yes, sir!" "Yes, boss!"

He drew his gun as he moved, muscle memory taking over. He slid behind a stone barrier just as bullets tore into the field, chunks of earth exploding upward, metal screaming as it was struck.

He yanked the magazine free with a sharp, metallic click, letting it fall into his palm. His eyes followed each bullet as if counting them aloud in his head. One... two. Only two. Just two. His pulse thudded in his ears.