"Since you're already here, why not stay?" Andrew's voice was icy.

A chilling smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he lunged forward, moving with ghostly speed.

The two assassins barely reached the second-floor window, desperately trying to break it open. Before their fists even made contact, Andrew's brutal punches smashed into their backs.

The impact was deafening—like lightning striking hard and heavy. The windows shattered instantly, exploding outward as the two assassins flew through them. Just like that, their bodies crashed onto the lawn below, shards of glass mixing with blood and flesh.

They lay lifeless, eyes wide with terror, frozen forever in their final moments.

Andrew's expression was terrifyingly cold. "Aspen, if you're still alive, you can come out now," he called out softly, his voice echoing through the silent villa.

Silence answered him. It seemed he was alone, the villa devoid of any other living soul.

A rare sense of urgency surged through him