Chapter 475 Friends, Not Lovers
Friendship is just friendship. It can’t be forced into something more. And it shouldn’t be mistaken for love. That wouldn’t be fair to Tilda, and it wouldn’t be fair to Andy either.
“Alright, let me make this clear,” Andy said. “Tilda, if that scumbag ever hurts you, you’d better tell me! You break up with him right away. I swear, I’ll risk my life to make him pay.” Andy clenched his fists. His bright blue eyes burned with fire, and even his pale face seemed to glow with color. Tilda gave him a small smile. “I’ll remember your promise. Please take good care of me, my knight.”
Night fell. In a shabby roadside motel, a tall man climbed the narrow stairwell. He stood six feet tall, weighed about 170 pounds, and wore a heavy winter coat with a hood pulled low. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, but his eyes flashed with sharp light, like a hidden blade ready to strike. He reached the third floor and stopped at Room 305.
After checking that no one had broken in, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. He scanned the room, checked the hidden tripwires he’d set, and studied the camera feed. Everything was untouched. Quiet as usual. Today was another peaceful day. He dropped his backpack on the bed, walked out to the tiny balcony, and lit a cigarette. He had been following Tilda for days now. From what he saw, her life was plain and simple. She ate, drank, and went out for fun. Nothing more. She looked no different from any carefree college kid on break. But that didn’t explain why the Bells were willing to pay such a fortune for her head.
If killing Tilda were really that easy, the organization could make a fortune. But was this world champion really as simple as she seemed? Especially Andy, the guy who’d been spending time with Tilda lately. Even his boss wouldn’t dare to mess with him. Anyone who ran in his circle wasn’t ordinary. He kept thinking Tilda wasn’t as plain as she looked. As he finished his cigarette, he reached for his phone to send today’s report through Skin’s encrypted channel.
A cold dagger touched the back of his neck. The chilly sensation froze him. His heart dropped. Impossible! He’d checked every corner, every wire, every trap. How did someone slip in? How had they avoided all the lines he’d set? This person didn’t leave a single trace behind. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed. He knew, with a sinking certainty, that tonight might be his last. This wasn’t an amateur. This was an expert. And the worst possibility bubbled up in his mind—was this person sent by Tilda? Or Skin’s rivals? His cover was blown. Now they had come to kill him. He tried to glance over his shoulder, desperate to find some tiny opening, some chance to escape. Tilda had altered her voice beforehand. She commanded coldly, “Don’t even think about turning around.”
The next second, the man felt his body freeze. He couldn’t move at all. Tilda had done something to him. Immediately after, he was dragged from the balcony back into the room. Then, with one swift motion, Tilda’s blade cut through the tendons in his hands and legs. Her technique was so sharp and so precise that he didn’t even feel the pain. Blood burst from the wounds. His eyes went wide, sweat poured down his face, and his breath came in short, panicked bursts. Staring at the silver-colored mask on Tilda’s face, he felt like he was looking at the devil himself. Now his limbs were useless. He couldn’t even crush an ant. Tied down and helpless, all he could do was wait for his fate. The way she masked her presence, the skill of her movements—it was terrifying. “W–who are you?” He stammered, his voice trembling as he forced the words out. “I can die, but at least please let me know who I’m facing!” He was desperate to leave behind some piece of information. “Don’t bother,” Tilda said flatly. “The fifteen bugs you planted in this room? I’ve already destroyed them. Even if you wanted to pass my identity to Skin, hoping they’d avenge you—it’s nothing but a pipe dream.”
“All fifteen?” His heart raced. He knew the bugs himself. For him to break into a place like this, he couldn’t have found all fifteen not without using some kind of high-tech scanner.
“And one more thing,” Tilda said coldly. “The dead don’t deserve to know my name.” The only reason she spared him was that she still had questions for him. Other than his mouth, he had nothing else of value. Tilda slipped a hand into her pocket and pulled out a small pill bottle.