Chapter 1167

Andarov could not care less about anything else and turned to flee, trying to blast through the villa wall and make his escape. However, Andrew’s attacks were relentless, like crashing waves, giving him no chance to run.

With perfect aim, Andrew struck the center of Andarov’s back with a palm strike that exploded like a thunderclap.

Bones shattered with a sickening crunch, and nearly two-thirds of Andarov’s skeleton was crushed in an instant. Then, blood gushed out from his mouth as he collapsed, his massive eight-foot frame crashing to the floor.

Raising his trembling, blood-soaked hand, he pointed at Andrew, gasping, “You’re not… not just some ordinary man. You’re from… Holtrien’s Chetvine… You’re part of the royal fa-”

He never got to finish the sentence. Before the final word left his lips, Andarov exhaled his last breath and died on the spot.

A single drop of blood fell from Andrew’s waist, and part of his shirt had already soaked through with red.

Natasha rushed over in alarm. “Darling, did you get shot?”

Andrew sank into the ruins of the couch and waved her off. “It’s nothing serious.”

He ripped open the fabric around the wound and calmly inserted two golden acupuncture needles. After that, he fished the bullet out like it was no big deal. He did not even flinch, nor did he twitch in pain. It was as if the injury was just a scratch.

Aspen watched in stunned silence, her heart pounding. She thought, ‘Is he always this ruthless, even toward himself?’

Natasha barked, “What are you standing there for? Aspen, grab the bandages! If it weren’t for him protecting you, do you really think a man like him would’ve been injured?”

Aspen finally realized that Andarov had spotted their hiding place only because of the noise she had made, and Andrew’s first instinct had been to throw himself over her and take the hit.

She thought, ‘Did this man actually take a bullet for me?’

Biting her lip, she hurried upstairs, grabbed the first-aid kit, and knelt to carefully bandage Andrew’s wound. However, the more she wrapped, the more her anger flared.

She demanded, “Why did you protect me? If that bullet had hit somewhere worse, even you wouldn’t have walked away from it!”

Andrew replied coldly, “If I hadn’t protected you, you’d be dead by now. Is this how you treat someone who just saved your life?”

Aspen was speechless. She clenched her jaw as emotion boiled up inside her, wondering why it made her so angry to see him hurt. Moreover, why was she angry at herself?

She was angry that she was powerless and seemed to be just a burden to him.

Natasha sneered, “Aspen, if it weren’t for him, you’d be six feet under by now. Maybe even a dozen times over. So, do us all a favor and drop the attitude. Start acting like someone who knows how to take care of her man.

“Do you really think everyone out there is going to be this patient with you? If it weren’t for Andrew, you’d be nothing but a rich man’s plaything by now. Or worse—just another body in the morgue.”

This time, Aspen did not talk back. She kept her head down, hiding her expression as she quietly cleaned the blood around his wound.

Chapter 1167

Andrew gently pushed her hand away and stood up. “No need to fuss. Get someone to dispose of the body. Then, lock this place down. More assassins are bound to come.”

As he finished speaking, a shadow suddenly dropped from a shattered second-floor window.

Andrew instantly raised his head and barked, “Who’s there?”

The figure crouched on the railing, mocking, “So, you can bleed. Guess you’re not as untouchable as you think.”

Then, the person descended the stairs slowly—it was Chantelle.

For once, Aspen found herself stepping forward to defend Andrew. “Ms. Garcia, Andrew got that wound protecting me.”

The mocking tone in Chantelle’s voice had seriously rubbed her the wrong way.

Chantelle gave her a once-over, smiling faintly. “Ms. Stevens, are you actually defending the man who keeps you on a leash? Tsk, tsk. I’d say your condition is terminal. Maybe schedule yourself a visit to a therapist?”

Aspen’s face turned crimson in an instant. She knew exactly what Chantelle meant—Stockholm Syndrome, full-blown.

Yet, she refused to admit it. Her voice was frosty. “My mental health isn’t your concern, Ms. Garcia.”

Chantelle was unfazed. “Andrew, I’ve already posted a security team around Serenity Villa. You’re hurt. Go rest. I’ll handle what comes next.”

Andrew smirked. “Perfect. That means my safety is now your responsibility, Ms. Garcia.”

Chantelle smirked. Just as she thought—Andrew was spineless.

Chapter 1168