Chapter 361
Chapter 361:
However, the smoke pouring from the wreck obscured his vision, making it difficult to see what was happening inside the vehicle.
As Ashton approached, a sudden thunderous crack pierced the night.
He barely had time to react before pain bloomed in his side. With a groan of anguish, he collapsed into the roadside brush, his body falling still as the cool grass enveloped him.
From the wrecked car, three assassins staggered out, their faces etched with the exhaustion of a near miss.
The youngest of the group, with a smug grin, blew the smoke from his gun’s barrel and sneered, “I didn’t think this guy would be so sharp. Not only did he figure out we were tracking him, but he also faked being in a rush to lure us in. We barely made it out alive! He handled himself well. No surprise our employer’s willing to pay a fortune to get rid of him.”
The second assassin, his face as cold and indifferent as the steel in his hand, gave a slight nod. “He’s definitely skilled, but it’s a shame he’s so young and cocky. He actually had the nerve to come at us without any caution. He could only blame himself.”
The eldest among them, his voice gravelly with the weight of experience, coughed and…
spoke up. “Alright, you two, enough talking. Go check his body and take some pictures. This isn’t a secluded spot. If we get discovered, we’re going to be in even more trouble!”
Without hesitation, the younger two moved toward the spot where Ashton had fallen, their confidence riding high.
But as they neared the green belt, a strange chill swept over them like a cold breeze before a storm.
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Where Ashton’s body should have been, there was only flattened grass—no body, no blood. Nothing.
A sinking feeling spread through their chests as the realization dawned: Ashton had vanished.
The three assassins froze, their minds racing, pulses quickening. Almost instinctively, they stepped back, the creeping dread like a shadow over their movements.
Then, without warning, the two younger assassins felt something solid behind them—a presence they hadn’t noticed until it was too late.
Before they could draw a breath, they crumpled to the ground with muffled groans, as if felled by an unseen force.
The eldest assassin, sweat beading on his brow, felt his spine stiffen.
When he was about to turn around to check, he felt the cold press of metal against his lower back.
In an instant, he knew—it wasn’t the touch of a hand but the barrel of a gun.
And then, like the crackle of lightning, Ashton’s voice cut through the still night air, low and seething with victory.
.
.
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