"There!" Ashley Bowen covered her eyes, pointing frantically out the window. She was a firm atheist, but seeing that small, pale hand outside still gave her a terrible fright.
Yuri Sinclair followed her gaze and strode to the desk. He pulled a pistol from the drawer, flicked off the safety, and advanced toward the window step by step.
He was incredibly fast, reaching the window in the blink of an eye. He shoved it open and thrust the pistol outside.
"Oh my god! I'm dead, I'm so dead!" A head popped up outside, letting out a panicked shriek. When she saw the muzzle of the gun pressed to her forehead, she nearly fainted on the spot.
But her survival instinct screamed that this was the second story. If she fainted, the fall would leave her disfigured, if not disabled.
"Please, spare me! I'm not a bad person!" she pleaded. She clung to the air conditioning unit with one hand and held the other up in surrender, her face a mask of pitiable desperation.
