Chapter 470: Lucian’s Death Note
CLACK!
The lone soldier, smart enough to duck instead of returning fire, scrambled into the corner of the hallway.
All he could do was watch his comrades fall one after another.
When the barrage of gunfire finally stopped, he found himself frozen in place.
"I-I-I..." he stuttered, gulping as he stared at the bodies of his entire unit.
His trembling eyes shifted toward the broken window.
Their comrade was still pinned against the window grille, the rope digging deeper into his neck.
Even in the darkness, the moon shone brightly enough for him to see the rope cutting into the man’s flesh, blood slowly seeping from the wound.
As if that weren’t horrifying enough...
The man’s body was riddled with bullet holes—most of them from his own comrades’ gunfire.
He should’ve traded places earlier when a comrade asked if he should go with the others; he thought. If he had agreed... he wouldn’t be here.
"I... I need to move," he muttered, trying to convince himself.
The soldiers stationed at this base never retreat in battle. They were trained not to tremble against the enemy.
Even if this base mainly served as a deployment point for reinforcements supporting the Di Carpio family’s main forces, they were still trained soldiers.
They were known as the hungry sharks, who were just as capable — just as terrifying.
And yet, his body refused to obey.
His knees shook like jelly. His fingers wouldn’t tighten around his rifle.
Hell...
His entire body trembled as though he were having a seizure.
After failing to stand for the third time, he stopped trying.
Slowly, he raised his head.
The hallway had fallen eerily silent. The sounds of battle still echoed outside.
But here...
There was nothing.
The silence was more deafening than the explosions.
His pupils constricted as he stared at the scene before him. Bodies littered the hallway and blood pooled across the floor.
At least two full squads had died here alone. Not counting the corpses scattered throughout the rest of the building.
And despite all that...
They still hadn’t caught the person responsible.
"Who..." he whispered, his shoulders slumping against the wall.
No.
It didn’t matter who that woman was anymore.
What mattered was...
"This place is finished," he breathed, only realizing he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. "We’re in deep trouble."
She had warned them.
Hell’s front door was going to be crowded tonight.
*****
Ashley slid farther down the rope before planting both feet against the building’s exterior wall.
She pushed off lightly, descended another few meters, and stopped again to test the rope’s stability.
Just then, a military truck rolled near the building.
"What’s that?"
Someone inside pointed upward, and everyone followed his finger.
There, a small figure was rappelling down the wall.
Gin, who had been standing in the back of the truck, turned immediately. Red glanced over from behind the wheel.
Both men narrowed their eyes.
Then disbelief flashed across their faces.
"I think we know who that is," Red blurted, steering the truck toward the building.
They had only been passing by, but even from this distance... that daring outfit was unmistakable. No one else would wear something that exposed that much skin into battle.
As they drew closer, they watched Ashley jump onto a windowsill, secure another rope, and continue rappelling down.
By the time she landed on the ground, the truck had already pulled up beside the building.
THUD!
"Hah—"
Ashley froze as the truck’s headlights suddenly illuminated her.
She squinted, shielding her eyes with one hand. With the other, she casually raised her rifle. If she was about to get shot, she might as well shoot back.
"Madam!"
Just as her finger brushed the trigger, Gin’s voice echoed across the courtyard.
"Huh?" Ashley frowned.
At the same moment, Red hurriedly switched off the headlights.
"Fuck..."
He practically threw himself out of the driver’s seat.
The only reason he’d turned on the lights was to check whether she was injured.
He still couldn’t tell.
What he could tell was that she was soaked in blood from head to toe. Blood dripped from her clothes. Even the hem of her skirt was saturated.
Everyone inside the truck exchanged confused looks.
"Is that woman..." Charm trailed off, watching Red and Gin rush toward her. "...the one speaking over the comms earlier?"
Old Fool slowly opened and closed his mouth.
"It... seems so," he whispered.
"That... little woman?" Another whispered in disbelief. "Isn’t she too... too petite?"
Packed tightly inside the truck like sardines, several of the rescued prisoners climbed out to get a better look.
Charm was among them.
He walked closer but stopped several steps away.
Red grabbed Ashley by the shoulders the moment he reached her. His eyes darted frantically from her head to her feet.
Beside him, Gin looked equally panicked.
"Madam! Are you alright? Were you shot? Where? Where?!"
"Where?" Red echoed, his mind blank.
Without thinking, he grabbed the loose hem of her blouse and lifted it to check her abdomen.
Ashley blinked as a cool breeze brushed against her skin.
"Did you get shot or not?" Red asked again, lightly pressing the side of her waist.
There wasn’t the slightest trace of inappropriate intent behind his actions. But that wasn’t why Ashley froze.
"Red." Her voice was calm and clear. "Do you have a death wish?"
"Huh?"
Red froze and slowly looked up.
"In case you’ve forgotten," Ashley continued evenly, "my husband keeps a diary where he writes about all the ways he’s going to kill Betty because he’s jealous of her."
She tilted her head. "He hasn’t started a page for Nolan yet, but I’m a little concerned he might’ve already written your name in his death notebook."
The words instantly snapped Red back to reality.
He released her blouse as though it had burned him and jumped backward with both hands raised.
"That’s not—"
Ashley suddenly smiled.
"I’m kidding." She winked before turning casually toward Gin. "I’m fine."
She spread her arms.
"See? No bullet wounds."
"Even my thigh—"
"No! I’m not looking!" Gin yelped, spinning around and covering his eyes the moment she reached toward her skirt. "I don’t want my name in that notebook! No way!"
"If you’re not hurt, great! But don’t flash me!" he added in a yell.
"I’m not flashing you. I was just scratching my leg." Ashley frowned. "It suddenly got itchy."
Gin: "..."
Even so, he refused to look.
Red awkwardly cleared his throat before straightening himself.
"So..." he said carefully. "You’re really not hurt?"
"Nope." Ashley shrugged. "None of this blood is mine."
"I just ended up in a rather messy situation," she explained, leaving the unimportant details behind.
To reassure him, she stepped forward and casually smacked his chest with the back of her hand. Then she turned toward the rescued prisoners gathered beside the truck.
They just stared at her, more like sizing her up.
A bright smile slowly spread across her face.
"Hello." She gave them a friendly wave. "Nice to meet you."
*****
Meanwhile...
Primo rubbed his eyes as he woke in the middle of the night. Sitting up on the couch where he had fallen asleep, he instinctively hugged the plushie Ashley had given him to hold whenever she wasn’t around.
Quietly, he turned toward Tommy’s bed.
He blinked a few times before climbing off the oversized couch and padding over to check on him. However, the moment he stopped beside the bed, Primo rubbed his eyes again and looked at Tommy once more.
Tommy lay flat on his back, his eyes wide open.