Badass in Disguise Chapter 115

Author's POV:

"I told you not to make this difficult on yourself," Jade said, watching the Shadow Organization operative writhe beneath her knife. The metallic scent of blood filled the air between them.

Blood trickled from the shallow cuts she'd made across his abdomen. Nothing fatal—just enough to loosen his tongue.

"JOKER suspects you have a connection to Shadow," he finally gasped, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Your fighting style, the way you move—it's too similar. They think you might be one of their trained killers or... a replica."

Jade pressed the knife deeper, her stomach visibly churning at his choice of words. The blade broke skin again, drawing a thin line of crimson across his ribs. "*Replica?*" The word came out with unmistakable disgust.

"That's the theory," he continued, wincing as the blade dug slightly deeper. Sweat beaded on his forehead, mixing with blood. "You suddenly appeared and took over as the new head of Titan Defense Group after Nobody—after Shadow disappeared. Your combat techniques match Shadow's signature style. And then there's your relationship with Chris Jensen."

"What about Chris?" she asked, voice deliberately calm, though her grip on the knife tightened.

"He was Shadow's closest confidant—practically joined at the hip for years. Now he's suddenly best friends with you? It raised flags. JOKER thinks it's too coincidental."

"That's disgusting," Jade spat, genuinely repulsed. Something like bitter irony flashed across her features. The Shadow Organization had tried to create replicas of her for years—harvesting DNA, studying movements, even attempting to copy neural patterns in underground labs. And now they suspected she was a copy of herself.

These people had claimed to "raise" her, then attempted to dispose of her when she no longer served their purpose. They'd bound her with false loyalty, manufactured gratitude for "training" that was nothing more than systematic abuse designed to break and rebuild her into their perfect weapon.

"What does the Organization want?" Jade asked, twisting the knife slightly, just enough to send a fresh wave of pain through his body.

He gasped, his back arching involuntarily. "If you have no connection to Shadow, they want to recruit you. Your talents would be... valuable to the organization." His eyes fluttered as he fought to remain conscious. "If you are connected to Shadow somehow—" he swallowed hard, "—then you're to be eliminated. Immediately and permanently."

Jade laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. It echoed off the walls of her apartment, cold and hollow. "How did Shadow die?"

"Failed mission. Body lost at sea."

A cold smile spread across Jade's face. A failed mission? Shadow, the world's top assassin with a perfect record spanning years, supposedly died on a failed mission? Her expression revealed what she thought of that explanation—an insulting lie, a pathetic cover story. They couldn't even honor her supposed death with something believable.

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Her hand had already decided his fate, fingers adjusting their grip on the knife.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Jade shook her head slowly.

"Actually, don't bother. A dead man doesn't need to know so much."

---

The top floor of New York Memorial Hospital hummed with quiet tension. Outside William Haxton's private room, family members gathered in hushed clusters, their designer clothes and perfect hair at odds with the sterile hospital environment. Medical equipment beeped steadily from within, the only indication that the Haxton patriarch still clung to life.

Dr. Walter Morrison and his team of specialists huddled with Mrs. Haxton near the entrance to the room, their expressions grave as they discussed treatment options. Morrison's thoughts briefly drifted to Jade Morgan, that peculiar young woman with surprising knowledge of pharmacology. The compound she'd created for President Thornton's migraines had been remarkable—elegant in its simplicity yet revolutionary in its effectiveness. But surely someone so young couldn't have advanced research on antidotes for this type of poisoning.

"We've managed to stabilize him for now," Morrison explained to Mrs. Haxton, whose perfectly manicured nails dug into her designer handbag. "But we're still trying to identify the exact compound used in the poisoning. It's unlike anything we've seen before."

At the far end of the corridor, Ethan Haxton stood alone, staring out the window. A cigarette—an unexpected vice for someone so disciplined—burned between his fingers, the smoke curling upward in delicate spirals. The lights of Cloud City spread out below, twinkling against the night sky like earthbound stars.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Ethan checked the caller ID, then answered immediately.

"Are you alright?" he asked without preamble, concern evident in his voice.

Jade's voice came through, unnervingly calm. "I need to borrow someone to handle a body."

Ethan's posture stiffened, the cigarette momentarily forgotten between his fingers. "Where are you?"

"My apartment."

"I'm on my way."

He ended the call and immediately motioned to Connor, who detached himself from the group of Haxton security personnel stationed discreetly along the hallway.

"We need to go," Ethan said quietly, crushing the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

"Ethan?" His mother called from down the hall, concern etched on her face. "Where are you going? The doctor hasn't finished—"

"Business emergency," Ethan replied, already moving toward the elevator.

Before she could protest further, the elevator doors closed, cutting off her worried expression.

---

Forty minutes later, Ethan's car pulled up outside Jade's apartment building. He brought Connor and three of his most discreet security personnel. The building was quiet, with most residents asleep at this late hour.

Jade opened the door before Ethan could knock. Her expression remained impassive, but he immediately scanned her for injuries, his eyes sweeping over her with practiced precision.

"You didn't have to come yourself," she said, stepping aside to let them in.

"I was worried about you," Ethan replied simply, his voice low.

The apartment looked like a war zone. Furniture had been overturned, glass shattered across the floor. A lamp lay broken in the corner, and there was a distinct dent in one wall that looked suspiciously human-shaped. Curtains hung torn from their rods, and splashes of blood marked the cream-colored carpet in dark patterns.

In the center of the chaos lay the body.

The man had been stripped of his tactical gear, which was piled neatly nearby. His back was covered in bruises and defensive wounds, telling the story of a violent struggle. His neck had an unusual wound—not a clean cut, but something more precise, almost surgical in nature. Ethan recognized a tattooed code between the man's shoulder blades—the mark of the Shadow Organization. The body was still warm.

"Jesus," Connor whispered, taking in the scene, his normally composed face showing shock.

"Sorry about the mess," Jade said, gesturing vaguely at the destruction. "I was testing his skills."

Ethan knelt beside the body, noting the single fatal wound that had pierced directly through the heart. A small glass vial containing an unidentifiable liquid caught his eye, the clear substance inside thick and viscous.

"My men will handle this," Ethan said, motioning to his security team. They immediately began the efficient process of body removal, working with practiced precision that spoke of previous experience.

Jade nodded. "I was going to deal with it myself, but there are too many people outside. Too many witnesses."

"Connor," Ethan said, "help them clean up."

When Connor moved to join the others, Ethan turned to Jade, his voice dropping so only she could hear. "How did you get mixed up with someone from the Shadow Organization?"

"I didn't get mixed up with someone from the Shadow Organization," Jade corrected him, her voice eerily calm. "I got mixed up with the Shadow Organization."

Ethan opened his mouth to ask for clarification, but Jade suddenly frowned, her nose wrinkling slightly.

"You smoked," she said, the observation catching him off guard.