Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren) novel Chapter 1089

Scattered chairs, overturned tables, and shattered glass from the back window completed the chaotic scene.

Andrew's eyes sharpened as he stepped toward the staircase and barked coldly, "Come out."

After three seconds, a masked man stepped into view at the bend of the stairs. He was holding a gun in one hand, a combat knife sheathed at his waist, and eyes sharp as a hawk's.

"You noticed something was wrong, but instead of running, you walked right in like you owned the place. You must be real confident in your skills." The man sneered as he raised the gun, aiming directly at Andrew's head.

Then, he pulled the trigger without a hint of hesitation. He wasted no time on speeches, eager to end the situation. After all, unnecessary chatters were the reason many villains died.

Even so, deep down, the assassin was surprised. He was told that the target on the Goldings' hit list was supposed to be some minor nobody. Yet somehow, this guy had spotted him instantly—despite a perfect hiding spot.

Still, it did not matter. With his skill level and the cold precision of his pistol, it would be over in a flash. Even if the kid was some half-baked semi–martial king, a direct hit would slow him down.

Then, once injured, his teammates would descend like vultures to finish the job and collect the sweet, sweet 300-million-dollar bounty.

As he pulled the trigger, the assassin was already fantasizing about how to spend his share.

First stop: find a hot, mature woman. Then, he would disappear with her for a two-week escape to a treehouse resort in the mountain range abroad. There, he would finally release all the pressure he had built up as a killer.

No more silent nights or blood-stained targets—just soft beds, smooth whiskey, and a woman who could bend without breaking. Not like those bratty college girls or fake-coy bitches who whimpered at the slightest touch.

No, mature women were different. They were broken in and more adventurous—a true professional's dream. In their little hitman circles, they called it what it was—the best of the best.