Natasha's bedroom was in complete disarray. She lay on the floor, drenched in sweat with disheveled hair and blood at the corner of her mouth, her face ghostly pale.
Her half-open eyes glared at Andrew with intense hatred, while he sat casually on the couch, sipping his tea as if nothing had happened. Unlike Natasha's battered state, not a single thread on Andrew's clothing was out of place.
"Wait, so you two weren't… you were actually fighting?" the bearded enforcer asked in disbelief.
Another West End thug added in shock, "How is it possible that Madam is injured?"
To them, Natasha had always been an invincible fighter, yet now she lay helpless on the floor, thoroughly defeated by Andrew.
Conan shot an angry glare at the bearded enforcer and his companion. "Weren't you just saying how much fun she was having? Stop standing there like idiots and help her up!"
The two men rushed forward to assist Natasha, but she impatiently pushed them away. "Get out! All of you get out!
