Badass in Disguise Chapter 197

I put my car in park and got out, ignoring the terrified man trapped inside the Chevrolet. The front of my car was dented, the headlight on one side completely shattered. I approached Silas, who stood frozen, his eyes darting between me and the now-sobbing customer.

"I was just planning to get my car washed," I said casually, gesturing to my damaged vehicle. "Looks like it needs more than that now."

I glanced over at the Chevrolet owner, who had finally managed to squeeze himself out through the passenger door. His face was pale with fear as he backed away, not even bothering to grab his wallet or phone from the console.

"Look at him run," I commented as the man stumbled away from his mangled car. "He won't dare come back to cause you trouble. People like that are all bullies—tough when they think they have power, cowards when confronted."

I leaned against the garage wall and watched as Silas returned to work. For the next several hours, I observed him moving methodically from one vehicle to another. He worked with impressive efficiency—diagnosing problems, replacing parts, testing systems. Not once did he take a break, not even to eat or drink.

Customers came and went, some polite, others demanding. Silas treated them all with the same detached professionalism, speaking only when necessary. By nine o'clock, the last customer had left with their keys, and Silas began cleaning up the shop.

"Need a ride?" I asked as he locked the garage door.

Silas glanced at my damaged car. "I'll walk."

"Afraid I might intentionally crash again? Smart choice," I joked, but still followed him as he headed down the street.

After a few minutes of silent walking, Silas sighed heavily. "Fine," he muttered, and reluctantly climbed into my passenger seat.

As I pulled away from the curb, I noticed him staring out the window, deliberately avoiding eye contact.

"Your brother who was taken," I said, breaking the silence. "If you had the resources, would you try to find him?"

His jaw tightened. "We barely know each other."

"That's not what I asked."

"That's my answer," Silas said, frustration evident in his voice.

---

The next day, Silas wasn't in class. I approached one of his classmates during the break.

"Where's Silas Murphy?" I asked.

The student, a skinny boy with thick glasses, looked surprised that I was speaking to him. "No idea."

I found the school counselor, who confirmed Silas hadn't checked in that morning. After asking a few more questions, I sent a text to Chase.

*Need your car. Mine's in the shop.*

His reply came quickly: *Anything for you, gorgeous. Meet you in the parking lot in 10.*

I signed out of school early, citing a medical appointment. Chase was waiting by his car, dangling the keys with a smirk.

"Where are we going?" he asked as I slid into the driver's seat.

"To check on someone," I answered, already pulling out of the parking lot.

Silas's apartment building looked even more depressing in daylight. Graffiti covered the lower walls, and several windows were patched with cardboard or duct tape. Chase wrinkled his nose as we climbed the stairs.

"Jesus, who lives in a place like this?"

I didn't answer, focusing instead on the door to apartment 507, which was slightly ajar. Pushing it open, I found Silas unconscious on the floor, blood pooling around his head from a gash above his temple. Shards of a broken whiskey bottle lay scattered nearby.

"Holy shit," Chase breathed.

I quickly checked Silas's pulse—steady but weak. Moving to the bedroom, I found Mrs. Murphy collapsed halfway to the door, her position indicating she had tried to reach her son.

"Chase, help me get him downstairs," I ordered, already lifting Silas's shoulders.

Chase looked at the blood smeared across Silas's face and hesitated for only a moment before carefully taking his legs.

"This isn't exactly how I planned to spend my day," Chase muttered as we maneuvered Silas down four flights of stairs. By the time we reached the bottom, Chase's designer shirt was stained with blood. "I thought we were just skipping class for fun."

"You got the adrenaline rush you wanted," I said, opening the car's back door. "And you'll get to drive like hell to the hospital. That should make your day."

Chase's face lit up at the prospect. "Now you're talking."

---

At the hospital, Silas was quickly taken for treatment while Mrs. Murphy was settled in a separate room. I waited outside Silas's room until a nurse indicated I could enter.

Silas was awake, his head bandaged, his eyes searching the room frantically until they landed on me.

"My mom?" he asked immediately, his voice hoarse.

"Next door," I answered.

Without waiting for permission, Silas swung his legs over the side of the bed and staggered to his feet. I didn't try to stop him as he made his way to his mother's room.

Mrs. Murphy was sleeping peacefully, the medication having taken effect. Silas visibly relaxed at the sight of her unharmed face.

"What happened?" I asked quietly.

Silas stared at his mother's frail form, his expression unreadable. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice dry and cracked.

"...None of your business."

Chase, who had followed us, stepped forward angrily. "She just saved your ass and your mom's, and that's how you thank her?"

"It was your father," I stated with certainty. The smashed items in the living room, the whiskey bottle—it all pointed to a drunken rage, not a break-in or attack.

Silas didn't confirm or deny it, but his silence was answer enough.

"Your mother needs to stay here," I continued. "I've covered her medical expenses for a year. A caregiver will arrive later today."

"I can't pay you back," Silas said stiffly.

"You will," I assured him.

This seemed to ease some of his tension, knowing there was a way to maintain his pride.

As we left the hospital, Chase fell into step beside me in the parking lot.

"So, did you dump Haxton for good this time?" he asked, twirling his car keys. "Not that I'm complaining, but Murphy? Really? Even for a charity case, that's a stretch."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"I mean, I get wanting to rebel, but at least pick someone hot." Chase grinned. "Like me, for instance. I'm available, rich, good-looking—"

"You're right about one thing," I interrupted. "You are available."

"So...?" he prompted hopefully.

"So nothing. You're great, Chase. But I'm too far out of your league. You couldn't keep up."

Chase laughed, not at all offended. "Brutal honesty. That's why I like you, Morgan."

I smiled despite myself. "Give me your keys. I'm driving back."

As Chase handed over his keys, he glanced back at the hospital. "His dad did that to him, huh? What a piece of shit."

For once, Chase and I were in perfect agreement.