Badass in Disguise Chapter 263

I spotted Ethan stepping out from a room downstairs. The door frame was empty—no actual door in sight. I raised an eyebrow.

"You sleep there?" I asked, nodding toward the doorless room.

Ethan shrugged casually. "It's just missing a door. Doesn't affect anything important."

He walked over and took my hand, his touch gentle but possessive. "Why are you up so early?"

I didn't answer him. Instead, I turned to Chris Jensen, who was watching us with thinly veiled amusement. I gave him a direct look.

"Want to see something?" I asked Chris bluntly, as if I'd happily satisfy any voyeuristic curiosity he might have about Ethan and me.

Chris glanced between us, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

"No, thank you," he replied politely, taking a sip of water before heading toward the dining room.

Ethan stared after him, confused. "What did he want to see?"

I smirked. "The traditional, proper Mr. Haxton in all his glory."

Before he could respond, I sensed a wave of irritation in the air. Looking toward the staircase, I spotted the source—Night descended, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed. His shoulder-length curly hair was barely tamed, and his hands were casually tucked into his pockets.

"Jensen, what the hell is wrong with you?" Night snapped, glaring at Chris.

Chris shot back without missing a beat. "What's wrong with you? It's morning, and you're already being an asshole."

Ethan looked at Night, who stood at the foot of the stairs with an expressionless face, staring him down.

Chris walked toward Night. "Since you're finally up, go eat breakfast. I need to check with Jade about those coordinates."

As Chris headed toward the stairs, Night grabbed his arm. "What were you talking to him about?"

"What do you think?" Chris replied with exasperation. "Security deployment, of course. He runs the Transcendent Military Alliance—he knows what he's doing."

Night's face remained dark with suspicion.

I followed Chris upstairs to check the coordinates we'd been tracking. In my room, I frowned at the laptop screen. That conniving bitch Queen of Clubs had definitely given me coordinates with deliberate errors.

"The coordinates are off," I said. "But she mentioned the Arctic Ocean instinctively when we had her. The general location should be right. With her cunning, I'd bet on the eastern sector rather than the western."

Chris nodded. "Our people won't reach that area until tomorrow at the earliest. Once they do, they'll search. When they find it, we blow it up."

"Shadow Organization has burrows everywhere," I replied. "I know plenty myself. If we can't find Sleepers, we'll destroy whatever else we can. Once we've demolished enough of their infrastructure, we'll pay SPECTER's hideout a visit."

A sharp knock interrupted us. One of Night's men appeared at the door.

"Mr. Jensen, we've captured an assassin," he reported.

"Let's take a look," Chris said, standing up.

We headed downstairs to find the grand hall crowded with armed men. In the center knelt a man bound tightly with zip ties, surrounded by at least fifteen guns pointed at his head.

Night noticed us and approached. "Baby, these Shadow fuckers move fast. This guy just walked up to our perimeter asking to die. What do you want to do with him?"

I assessed the situation carefully. "Did you search him?"

"Thoroughly. Just a gun and a knife on him."

I studied the man. He had a gunshot wound in his shoulder that was bleeding steadily. His face had an ashen pallor, but his eyes followed me intently. He was too well-dressed for someone who'd just been in a fight, without a speck of dirt on his clothes.

Something felt wrong. A shoulder wound wasn't fatal for someone with Shadow training. They wouldn't be captured so easily.

"Get back!" I shouted, already moving.

The man lunged toward me with unexpected speed.

Night reacted instantly, raising his gun and blowing the man's head apart with a single shot.

The moment the operative collapsed, an explosion tore through the room. The once-elegant hall instantly became a slaughterhouse. Blood, viscera, and shrapnel sprayed in all directions. The thick, metallic stench of blood mixed with the acrid smell of burned flesh and explosives, creating a nauseating cocktail that filled the air.

The human bomb had been packed with razor blades, maximizing the carnage. The men closest to the explosion were instantly shredded. One guard's face was embedded with metal fragments, his screams piercing through the sudden chaos. Another clutched his abdomen where intestines spilled through his fingers.

Where the operative had knelt was nothing but a puddle of blood and scattered organs.

Ethan pushed through the bloody mist, ignoring the gore covering his clothes. "Are you hurt?" he demanded, reaching me first.

I grimaced in disgust at the mess. "I'm fine."

"Night," Chris called out, his voice cutting through the chaos.

We turned to see Night standing a few feet away. Being closer to the blast, he hadn't escaped unscathed. A large piece of shrapnel was embedded in his arm, and his leg was bleeding from another wound.

"Fucking hell," Night spat, fighting visible nausea. "Those Shadow psychopaths using human bombs now? This is disgusting."

I moved quickly to his side, examining his wounds. The metal fragment in his arm had penetrated deeply, and the leg wound was bleeding profusely.

"The leg shrapnel is too deep—you'll need surgery to remove it. I'll do basic first aid to stop the bleeding, then you need to get to a hospital."

"Not before I shower," Night insisted, already trying to remove his tactical jacket despite his injured arm. The thought of human remains sticking to his body was clearly more distressing than his wounds.

"Get infected, lose your leg, lose function in your hand. A one-armed man with a cane sounds charming," I said dryly, successfully deterring him from immediate showering.

Chris looked nearly as disgusted as Night, removing his own jacket. "Can you walk? If not, I'll carry you to the car."

"I'll go myself," Night said sharply. "You stay here."

He gave Chris a pointed look that clearly meant to keep an eye on Ethan and me.

"Take extra security," I told Night. "Be careful."

After helping Night with basic first aid and sending him off to the hospital, I spent nearly half an hour in the shower, using almost an entire bottle of shampoo and body wash to remove the blood and smell from my skin.

When I emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, I found Ethan sitting on the edge of my bed. He'd showered and changed into fresh clothes, but his face still carried the tension of what we'd witnessed.

He took the towel from my hands and began drying my hair himself, his movements tender and thorough.

"This is just the beginning," I warned him. "Shadow Organization has far worse tactics than this. Prepare yourself."

Ethan set the towel aside and pulled me into his arms, his lips close to my ear. "As long as you're safe, I can handle anything."

I turned my head slightly to look at him. "Scared?"

"Yes," he admitted without hesitation.

"Not very brave, Mr. Haxton," I teased.

"Can Miss Morgan comfort me a little?" he asked, his voice soft.

I made a show of reluctance. "A big man like you asking a woman for comfort? Really?"

Despite my words, I raised my arms and patted his back gently.

"I'd like to comfort you too," he said, "but you never give me the chance."

"If I ever need your comfort," I replied honestly, "we're probably both doomed."

His arms tightened around me. "I was terrified. If Night hadn't shot him in time and he'd gotten closer... if you'd been hurt..." Ethan's voice cracked slightly. "And if you'd been injured and needed to leave the house for medical treatment, the danger would multiply."

I could hear the genuine fear in his voice, remembering our desperate days on the run when I was injured. I found myself returning his embrace fully, holding him close.