The Underworld Boss's Notorious Lackey Is Actually A Hidden Beauty?!

Night settled over the woods outside Wruosas in early June, and a Rolls Royce waited along a forgotten stretch of road as the trees swayed with the breeze.

Light from the cabin leaked through the windows and washed over a middle aged man whose face was tight with hunger. His breathing came in rough, uneven pulls.

Below him, a woman lay with her eyes shut and her mouth slightly open, and soft, suggestive sounds slipped from her lips.

She whispered under her breath, and the tone carried a lazy sense of pleasure.

Without warning, someone charged out of the darkness.

Glass exploded as the window was smashed in a single strike, and the sudden crash jolted both bodies inside the car. The man did not even bother to look up as he snapped, "Fuck off!"

Knife in hand, the intruder leaned against the door with an easy posture, and his gaze cut sharp as lightning while he toyed with the blade. "Mr. Harding, having a good time? That ends tonight. You will not be enjoying anything once I am finished with you."

Panic seized the woman, and she screamed as she slid down to the floor mat, curling in on herself. The man straightened at a measured pace, looked at the stranger, and forced a thin smile even as his heart lurched. "You think you can threaten me, you motherfucker? You should be glued to that bastard, not sticking your nose into my business."

The intruder's mouth curved with open contempt as he said, "Oh, please. You are just acting all tough."

The voice belonged to Avery Brown, a woman disguised as a man, around twenty-five years old, dressed in fitted black leather with neatly trimmed short hair and a silver diamond-shaped badge fastened to her chest. Her tone sounded smooth at first, yet the cold edge beneath it carried a quiet threat.

The middle-aged man, Conor Harding, sneered as he spoke, his voice thick with contempt. "Just because you crawl around Kellan like a loyal mutt, you think you scare me? I have never been afraid of anyone. Do you really believe he can swallow Wruosas by himself? What a joke."

Without hesitation, Avery drove the knife into Conor's thigh, deliberately angling the blade away from anything vital. Blood spilled across the seat as pain tore from his throat.

A sharp, lethal glint flashed through her eyes, and the pressure of her presence alone was enough to freeze the air inside the car. In the low glow of the cabin light, she pulled the blade free and said evenly, "Mr. Wright is not someone you get to insult."

The knife spun lazily between her fingers while she studied him, her gaze mapping out where she might strike next. "Tell me, how do you want to die? I am feeling generous tonight. I might even grant a final request."

A faint smile rested on her lips, as though Conor were nothing more than a broken toy she could discard whenever she pleased.

"You really think you can kill me?" Conor growled through clenched teeth. His hand suddenly slipped behind him, and a gun appeared in his grip as he shoved the barrel toward Avery's forehead.

For a brief moment, Avery froze, caught off guard by the weapon in his hand.

Then she moved. She backed away from the car in one smooth motion while Conor kept the gun locked on her.

He scoffed, "Hmph. Just a reckless brat who doesn't know his place."

With the gun clenched in his grip, Conor felt a surge of bravado return, even though sweat streamed down his temples and exposed the fear he could not fully suppress.

Avery's eyes flicked to the weapon, and she let out a quiet laugh before saying, "A custom SR 19335 with a steel fiber frame. Small enough to hide, easy to handle, barely makes a sound, and useless if you think one shot will finish the job."

While she broke down the gun with casual confidence, her hand shifted slightly in a motion Conor failed to notice.

Hidden among the brush nearby, her teammates caught the signal at once. One of them slammed a fist into the dirt and muttered under his breath, "That bastard is armed. I should have investigated him properly. If Avery gets hurt because of this..."

"Ease up. You know how good Avery is. Conor is not a real threat. Avery just wanted us to know he is carrying a gun so we do not rush in," another voice answered calmly, steady despite the tension.

The first man still looked uneasy as he tightened his grip on the sniper rifle. "Then it comes down to speed. Either he fires first, or I do."

Certain her message had been received, Avery turned her focus back to Conor and spoke evenly. "Stop fighting it, Conor. This ends tonight."

Her words failed to shake him. Conor's expression twisted with fury, and his finger hovered near the trigger, ready to pull at the slightest movement.

As he hurriedly pulled his clothes back into place, he sneered and spat out, "Yeah, keep telling yourself that, but I'm the one holding a gun here."

Conor dragged himself out of the car inch by inch and braced his weight against the door, and blood continued to seep from his injured leg while tremors ran through his body. Even so, he forced his right hand to stay steady on the gun because he feared giving Avery the slightest chance to strike.

Seeing how hard he guarded himself, Avery answered with nothing more than a crooked smile, and the weapon aimed at her did not rattle her in the least. "I have to ask. What made you turn against Horizon Group in the first place?"

Wruosas stood as a thriving city on the surface, yet beneath that glow, the trade in guns and drugs followed rules that were merciless and unforgiving.

At the center of that shadowy world was Erik Ward, whose force was second only to the Horizon Group. He ruled over a powerful crime family and controlled an enormous distribution network through a combination of strategy and cruelty that scared off most challengers.

Conor served as Erik's most dependable right hand. Beyond overseeing daily gun and drug operations, he acted as Erik's bridge to the outside world, and his name alone commanded respect and fear in equal measure.

Irritation flashed across Conor's face as he snapped, "Cut the nonsense. You chose Kellan, and that choice is going to ruin you."

As the last word left his mouth, Conor was ready to pull the trigger, yet at the same instant, a diamond-shaped badge streaked through the air and tore toward his shooting hand.

Just before the bullet could fly true, the badge punched straight through his hand, knocking the shot off course and sending the round into the dirt near Avery's feet.