Badass in Disguise Chapter 192

The next morning, I sat on the edge of my bed in Lawrence's mansion, staring at the medicine glass in my hand. The thick, brownish liquid inside looked as appetizing as sewage.

"Down it goes," I muttered, tipping my head back and gulping the entire contents in one swift motion. The bitter, acrid taste assaulted my tongue, and I fought the urge to gag as the viscous liquid slid down my throat.

"Here." Ethan's voice came from beside me as he pressed something small into my palm. "It's candy. To kill the taste."

I popped the sweet into my mouth gratefully, the burst of cherry flavor mercifully overpowering the medicinal bitterness. "Thanks," I said, my voice slightly muffled.

Ethan nodded, collecting the empty glass. "How's the vision today?"

"Still blurry," I replied. The medicine was working.

---

By the fourth day, I could make out moving shapes and strong light. I watched fuzzy silhouettes drift past my window, the Spanish sunlight streaming in with enough intensity that I could distinguish day from night.

Two days later, I was sitting in the garden when Ethan approached. The shadowy outline of his tall frame was becoming more distinct. He waved his hand in front of my face, testing my vision, and I reached out, catching his wrist with surprising accuracy.

"Getting better?" he asked, a note of hope in his voice.

"I can see a blurry outline now," I admitted, releasing his wrist. "Still can't make out details, but it's something."

Ethan sat beside me, his hand finding mine. The warm pressure of his fingers around mine had become familiar over these past days. "Don't rush it," he said softly. "We have time."

But we didn't, not really. Ethan had been away from his company for too long. I could hear the strain in his voice during his daily calls with Connor, the mounting issues requiring his attention. If he hadn't been here with me, I would have stayed until my vision was completely restored – Lawrence's mansion was secure, and I wasn't concerned about Shadow operatives finding me here.

"I want to go back to America," I announced the next morning over breakfast. "Tomorrow, if possible."

Ethan paused, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. "Are you sure? Your eyes—"

"Are improving," I finished for him. "I'll continue the treatment at home."

"I'd also like to take Zach back with us," I added. "Human Zach, I mean."

"I thought you might want him to recover more fully here."

"He insists on coming with me." I shrugged. "And he's stubborn enough to find his own way back if we leave him behind."

Ethan nodded, understanding. "I'll make the arrangements."

---

Later that day, I found Lawrence in his study, classical music playing softly as he read a book with his cat curled in his lap. The Doberman, Zach, lay at his feet but immediately bounded over when I entered, circling me excitedly.

"He's grown quite attached to you," Lawrence observed, scratching his cat behind the ears. "I think he'd like you to be the lady of the house."

"Is that so?" I smiled down at the dog.

Ethan appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with crossed arms. "I didn't realize Mr. Linden was fluent in canine communication," he remarked dryly.

Lawrence smiled, unperturbed. "Dogs have excellent instincts."

"I'd like to take him with me," I said, nodding toward the Doberman. "When I return to America tomorrow."

"Absolutely not." Lawrence's tone remained pleasant, but his refusal was firm. "Ten Crystal Vaults wouldn't be enough for him."

---

The next morning, as we prepared to leave, the Doberman refused to be separated from me. He followed me from room to room, whining pitifully whenever I moved toward the door. When our luggage was loaded into the car, he slipped past Lawrence's security and jumped into the vehicle, stubbornly refusing to budge.

Lawrence stood on the driveway, arms crossed. "It seems he's made his choice."

"I thought you said he wasn't for sale at any price," I reminded him.

Lawrence sighed dramatically. "He's not for sale. Consider him... on loan. A guardian to watch over you until your eyes fully recover." His expression softened slightly. "Take good care of him."

I nodded, hiding my satisfaction. "I will."

---

That evening, we boarded Lawrence's private jet. Zach – the human one – trailed behind us. The dog trotted happily alongside me, having won his battle to stay by my side.

The flight back was uneventful. When we landed, a sleek black Haxton vehicle was waiting for us at the airport. The drive to my apartment was quiet, with human Zach still brooding in the front seat while the Doberman sat contentedly beside me.

My apartment felt smaller after Lawrence's sprawling mansion, but it was familiar and mine. Human Zach immediately moved to check each room, his security training evident in his methodical approach, while the dog explored his new surroundings with enthusiasm.

"I'll stay here for a few nights," Ethan said, setting my bag down in the living room. It wasn't a question.

"That's not necessary," I replied. "I can manage on my own."

"Your vision—"

"Is improving every day," I cut him off. "Besides, I know you have meetings tomorrow. I wouldn't want to keep you from your work."

He studied my face for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. "At least take your medicine before I go."

I did as he asked, grimacing at the bitter taste. He watched me drink it, then reluctantly headed for the door. "I'll check on you tomorrow," he promised.

After he left, I stood in my living room, taking in the blurry outlines of my furniture. Better than yesterday, but still far from normal.

---

Max came to visit that evening, his familiar awkward shuffle announcing his arrival before I opened the door.

"Jade!" He hugged me tightly, then pulled back to examine me with worried eyes. "Are you really okay? Your eyes—"

"Will be fine in a few days," I assured him. "The treatment's working."

He nodded, then noticed Zach standing silently by the kitchen counter. "Oh! Zach. I wanted to thank you for helping my sister. Are you alright?"

Zach merely nodded, his expression unreadable. Max stood there awkwardly, clearly intimidated by Zach's stoic demeanor.

I was playing with the Doberman's collar tag when the doorbell rang again. Through the security camera feed on my phone, I saw Chase Astor shifting from foot to foot.

Before I could open the door, the dog bolted past me, somehow managing to turn the handle with his mouth. The door swung open.

"Hey, you got a dog!" Chase grinned, reaching down to pet him. The Doberman growled, baring his teeth.

Chase jerked his hand back, but the dog was already moving, chasing him down the hallway. I heard Chase's panicked yell fade as he ran, the dog in hot pursuit.

---

Over the next few days, Ethan came by each evening around seven. On the fifth night, I was in the bathroom attempting to wash my hair when he arrived. The shampoo bottle slipped from my hands, clattering to the floor.

"Need help?" Ethan's voice came from the doorway.

I hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, actually."

He picked up the fallen shampoo and moved behind me, taking the handheld shower head. His fingers were careful as they worked through my hair, adjusting the water temperature perfectly.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice close to my ear.

"Yeah," I murmured, closing my eyes as his fingers massaged my scalp. It felt unexpectedly intimate, his hands moving through my hair with gentle precision.

When he finished washing, he wrapped my hair in a towel, his movements gradually slowing. I could feel his breath on my forehead, and when I opened my eyes, his face was much closer than I expected.

Ethan leaned in slowly, his eyes focused on my forehead as if he meant to press his lips there. My gaze lifted to his face, and our eyes met.

He froze. "You can see me."

"Better than before. Still not perfect."

Ethan straightened, putting distance between us again, but his hands remained on the towel around my hair. He continued drying it as if nothing had happened.

"How long have you been able to see?" he asked casually, his fingers working through the damp strands.

"Since this morning," I admitted. "Things are much clearer now."

He nodded, continuing his task without comment. But I took the towel from his hands, breaking the contact between us.

"I can handle it from here," I said softly, stepping away.

Ethan watched me walk out of the bathroom, his expression unreadable. "I'll clean up," he said simply.