Rising from the Ashes (Andrew and Lauren)

"Alright then, if that's all, you can leave now," Andrew said, casually waving Trent away.

Trent bowed quickly and asked cautiously, "Mr. Lloyd, Freya mentioned you were introduced to her as a potential match earlier. I was just wondering if there's anything going on—"noveldrama

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Andrew cut him off without hesitation. "Relax. There's nothing between us. If you want to win her over, that's on you. No one's competing."

Trent beamed, grinning from ear to ear as he backed away and hurried off like a man who had just won the lottery.

However, Freya looked at Andrew with a mocking smile. "Still the same as ever, huh? Afraid to get involved with us three sisters?"

Andrew shrugged. "Hey, those were your words, not mine."

Freya's tone was flat. "Don't worry, Andrew. I'm only here to talk business, not to cling to you."

Andrew narrowed his eyes suddenly and lunged forward without warning.

Freya, wearing a flowing chiffon dress, gasped as she was pinned to the floor, her soft body held firmly beneath him. Her eyes went wide in shock. "You..."

Andrew's face was cold and focused. He said nothing as he locked his arms around her and began rolling them across the ground.

Freya finally realized what was happening and began thrashing beneath him, her voice rising in a mix of panic and outrage. "Didn't you just say you didn't want anything with me? Now you're trying to make a move on me? Andrew, you animal!"

"Shut up! We're in danger!" Andrew barked

Just as his words fell, there was a muffled bang as the exterior floor-to-ceiling window shattered. At the same time, a huge hole suddenly exploded open less than five centimeters from where they lay.

Andrew's instincts kicked in instantly, and he could tell it was a targeted hit using a high-powered, high- precision sniper rifle. Someone was trying to assassinate him—or Freya.

Without pausing, he kept rolling with Freya, shielding her as they tumbled behind a structural column in the

corner.

Another shot rang out. The wall cracked and splintered as the bullet missed their position by mere inches.

Andrew's body tensed, coiled and ready. Every muscle in his core activated, his reaction time honed to perfection.

Freya was trembling beneath him, her eyes wide with panic. "W-Who's shooting at us? Why are we being targeted?"

Andrew had no time to deal with her. Instead, he just scooped her up and charged toward the floor's emergency exit.

Only by entering the emergency stairwell could he guarantee the shooter would lose their target.

Three more rounds exploded behind them, each one tearing through the air at bone-crushing speed, missing by barely a hair.

To the sniper watching through the scope, the target carried another person, flickering across the lens like a phantom before vanishing.

That speed was simply inhuman.

On a nearby high-rise, the assassin muttered coldly, "As expected... You slippery bastard! But if long-range didn't work, close-range will. I'ft still take your head, Mr. Lloyd. M. Burke will get his answer."

He descended from the

30-something floor to the street level in just a few seconds. Like a shadow slipping through the cracks of reality, he dashed across the street and entered the same building Andrew and Freya had escaped into.

He did not take the elevator but found the emergency stairwell, moving like a gust of wind as he instantly shot up to the third floor, fifth floor, eighth floor, then the tenth floor.

If ordinary people saw this speed, they would have blurted, "With legs like that, he should be delivering

takeout instead of taking out people."