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.

A scream tore out of Conor as the badge punched clean through his hand, and the gun slipped from his grip before clattering onto the ground.

Avery reacted instantly, kicking the weapon out of reach and driving her foot down onto his shoulder to pin him in place.

A relaxed smile rested on her face, yet her gaze carried nothing but lethal intent as she said, "Looks like you are determined to make this end painfully."

Trapped beneath her weight, Conor pushed aside the agony in his shattered hand. With death looming, a rush of adrenaline flooded his body, and he thrashed violently in a reckless attempt to drag her down with him.

But Avery had already anticipated the move. She seized his fingers and broke them one after another without hesitation.

The scream that followed was raw and desperate, and the agony from his mangled fingers dwarfed the pain in his palm. Gasping through sobs, he cried out, "Please, let me live. Whatever Kellan paid you, I will give you ten times more."

No answer came from her. Avery responded with her fist, smashing it straight into his nose, then striking again, each hit delivered with merciless precision.

Dirty tricks were the things she could never tolerate, and she knew exactly what kind of monster Conor had been. He had slaughtered innocents without remorse.

Even death by her hands felt like mercy he did not deserve.

By the time she stopped, his face had swollen into something unrecognizable, and blood spread beneath him as he was rendered unconsciousness. Avery ended it with a final kick to his head. Finally, the last breath left him.

She moved closer, checked for any sign of life, and confirmed what she already knew. A cold sense of satisfaction settled over her after personally ending a man who had ruined so many lives.

Avery turned her back to the body and took out her phone, and the flashlight clicked on as pale light sliced through the surrounding darkness.

Movement followed almost immediately, and the crunch of footsteps grew louder until more than a dozen young men stepped out from the shadows with diamond shaped iron badges fixed to their chests, closing the circle around Avery and Conor.

"That was insane, Avery."

"You were unbelievable."

Their voices stayed low, but excitement and admiration were clear as they looked at her with open awe.

Only one figure stood apart from the rest with his head lowered and his eyes fixed on the ground.

Avery caught the change in mood at once. "Ruben, what is it?"

Hearing his name, Ruben James lifted his head, and his eyes were rimmed red with shame. Before a word left his mouth, he struck his own face twice.

Avery snapped forward and caught his wrist, her expression hard. "Talk," she ordered.

"Avery, I messed up. I did not verify the intel carefully enough. I never thought Conor would be carrying a gun. I almost got you killed," Ruben confessed.

When Conor had raised the weapon, his finger had already been tightening on his trigger. Another teammate had stopped him at the last second, reminding him that Avery had given strict orders not to interfere without a clear signal.

All he could do was watch, powerless, knowing that if Avery made even one mistake, he would die right there.

The thought hollowed him out. If Avery had fallen because of his negligence, no punishment or death would ever be enough to repay that failure.

So while the others felt relief and excitement seeing Avery alive, Ruben stood there, drowning in guilt, unable to feel anything else.

"I know what I can handle. Someone like Conor was never a real threat to me." Avery let out a quiet breath and rested a hand on Ruben's shoulder as she spoke. "That said, if you make the same mistake again, you will not walk away without consequences."

Those words finally eased the tension in Ruben's chest. He nodded hard and forced a grin. "Got it, Avery. If I screw up next time, you can beat some sense into me yourself."

Ruben bent down to haul Conor's body up with practiced ease. As he turned to leave, he said, "The mission's done, Avery. You can go back first. We will clean everything up from here."

Avery gave a brief nod, but her expression sharpened as she suddenly looked toward the car. Her voice rang out cold and firm. "Who's there? Come out. Now."

A shrill scream answered her command, followed by frantic movement inside the vehicle. A woman stumbled out in a panic, barely holding her clothes together as she blurted out, "Please do not hurt me. I barely know him. He just called me over tonight!"

Tears streaked down her face, and her voice shook uncontrollably as she spoke.

Avery flicked her hand in dismissal. "Get dressed and leave."

The woman did not hesitate. She scrambled to gather her clothes and bolted into the darkness, fleeing as though she had been given a second chance at life.

"Avery, you're still as merciful towards women as ever." One of the subordinates clicked his tongue and smirked as he passed Avery a gold embossed key card. "High-ups sent this as a reward. That woman earlier had a decent body. Want me to set something up for you?"

She lifted her hand as if she were about to slap him, then laughed and drove her foot into his backside instead. "I have no taste for women like that. Do whatever you want on your own time, but if any of you come back infected with something, do not expect me to cover for you. I will cut you off without hesitation."

Slipping the key card into her pocket, Avery added flatly, "Do it nicely. I am done here."

Quiet nods followed as the team watched Avery walk off and vanish into the darkness.

Thirty minutes later, her car rolled to a stop in front of the Laurel Club. Lavish lights and ornate details framed the entrance, leaving no doubt that this was one of Wruosas's most exclusive private clubs, a place never meant for the public eye.

Inside the elevator, Avery turned the gold card between her fingers while the car rose at an unhurried pace, finally coming to a stop on the eighth floor.

Rising nine stories above the city, the Laurel Club reserved its top floor exclusively for Kellan Wright, the leader of Horizon Group, who treated it as both his personal office and private retreat and rarely bothered returning to his villa.

Among the upper circles of Wruosas, the Laurel Club was spoken of with open envy, yet its doors never welcomed outsiders.

Outside her assigned room, Avery swiped her key card again and again, and each attempt was answered with an irritating beep. She clicked her tongue, lifted her gaze toward the surveillance camera above, and let a faint smile curve her lips.

Without waiting another second, she drove her foot into the door, striking it repeatedly until the frame warped and the lock finally gave way with a dull snap.

The card was flicked aside as she muttered, "What a pain."

She shrugged out of her black leather jacket, loosened the collar at her throat, and slipped off her shoes before crossing the room barefoot toward the bed. Beyond the glass, mist clung to the night sky, and scattered stars glimmered faintly through the haze.

Her eyes landed on the ornate pack of cigarettes resting on the table, and she drew one out before taking a long sniff as her thoughts drifted backward in time.

Two years ago, she had spoken her vow with unwavering resolve. "To fight crime and defend the lawful rights of citizens, I will bury my identity and walk among the enemy. No matter the cost, I will uphold justice and the law."

Time had passed faster than she ever expected, and two years vanished like a breath.

A sharp click at the door shattered her reflection. Her hand moved beneath the pillow on instinct, but it found nothing there, and she froze for several seconds as tension crept into her spine.

For a split second, Avery forgot where she was, mistaking the space for her quiet villa on the outskirts instead of a high end suite inside Laurel Club.

Reality snapped back just as fast. The door was already compromised, and anyone could enter without obstacles.

She shot to her feet, muscles coiled tight, every nerve alert like a predator sensing danger.

In the darkness, a man walked in, his face remaining unrecognizable. Heavy footsteps crossed the wooden floor with purpose, each step slow, controlled, and deliberate.

Positioned in the corner, Avery held her breath and waited. The instant he moved close enough, she surged forward and clamped a hand around his throat, but the advantage vanished in a blink as he countered with brutal speed.

Air was cut off as his grip closed around her neck, and heat rushed to her face while she clawed at his fingers in panic. Strength drained from her limbs no matter how hard she struggled, and she could not force him to loosen his hold.

Her sight began to smear and blur, shapes dissolving into haze as if her thoughts were being torn apart by a violent gust.

Even so, surrender never crossed her mind. She still had a mission to finish.

Pain exploded through her senses as she bit down on her finger, and the sharp jolt dragged her awareness back from the edge.

Without thinking, she slipped off her cufflinks and swung her free hand upward, driving the sharpened edge toward his chest.

He twisted aside at the last moment and released her throat, and Avery collapsed onto the floor, sucking in air before throwing herself forward again.

Light flooded the room all at once, and a wave of black suited bodyguards rushed in through the doorway, filling the space in seconds.

"Enough. Back off!" the leader shouted to Avery.

Avery halted in place and swept her gaze across the figures in front of her, measuring every movement with guarded focus.

Standing closest was a man wrapped in a black silk robe that hung loosely from his frame, the fabric barely secured at his waist and exposing pale skin that stood in stark contrast to Avery's sun darkened tone.

Authority clung to him without effort. His eyes cut sharp and intent like a predator locking onto prey, and his tall frame filled the room with a pressure that was impossible to ignore.

Lifting her chin, Avery met his stare head on and asked evenly, "Who are you?"

Silence answered her at first, and his expression remained distant, stripped of any warmth.

Outrage erupted from the leader as he barked, "Watch your tone. Our boss owes you no explanation. Get on your knees!"

Avery spat blood onto the floor, chuckling coldly. "Who do you think you are, breaking into my room and demanding I surrender?" Then she turned to Kellan, the man in the robe. "Handsome, you are really enjoying the power trip, aren't you?"

Kellan was wondering about the faint, unfamiliar scent he had smelled as he grabbed Avery's neck. The sensation had frozen him in place for a heartbeat. He had believed for years that his senses had dulled beyond recovery.

Hearing such a bold, careless tone come from the attacker standing before him only deepened his irritation.

He dropped the disinfectant wipe from his hand and spoke in a calm, icy voice. "You do not need my name. All you need to understand is that provoking me is a mistake you will regret."

The nerve of this man was almost impressive. A crooked smile tugged at Avery's mouth as a dangerous glint surfaced in her eyes, and her fingers closed more firmly around the cufflink in her hand.

What looked like an ordinary accessory was actually a custom folding blade, built to disable quickly rather than kill.

The slight shift did not escape Kellan's notice. His gaze sharpened, and one brow lifted with mild interest as he said, "Still not surrendering?"

A short laugh slipped from Avery as she tilted her head. "You wish!"

Her expression hardened without warning. In the same breath, her wrist snapped forward, and the blade shot from her hand toward Kellan's throat, fast enough to draw startled gasps from everyone in the room.

But he just stepped aside with lazy precision, letting the weapon skim past his hair before it struck the wall behind him and dropped to the floor with a metallic ring.

Before Avery could fully register what happened, Kellan was already at her back, and the cold press of a compact gun settled against her head.

Even with the barrel kissing her hair, she turned her head slightly and looked at him with open disdain. A short scoff followed, saying, "I already told you this is my room. Showing up uninvited this late. What, are you throwing yourself at me?"