Badass in Disguise (Shadow) novel Chapter 66

Chapter 66

Author’s POV:

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Connor Haxton stood at the window of the conference room, watching Jade Morgan walking across

the Transcendent Military Alliance compound. His brow furrowed as he turned to Ethan.

“There’s something off about her,” Connor said, keeping his voice low despite being alone with

Ethan. “Her combat skills are far too exceptional for a high school student. And have you noticed her accent? It doesn’t quite match Cloud City.”

Ethan glanced up from his laptop. “What are you suggesting?”

“I’m not sure, but no teenager fights like that. The way she took down those mercenaries–it was

textbook perfect. Military grade. And her confidence… it’s unnerving.”

“Perhaps,” Ethan replied, his tone measured. “But let’s not rush to conclusions. Whatever her

background, she’s proven herself a valuable ally. For now, that’s enough.”

Connor frowned. “You’re being unusually cautious. Normally you’d want every detail about someone

like her.”

“Sometimes wisdom lies in patience, Connor.” Ethan closed his laptop. “Besides, I’d rather not make

an enemy of someone who defeated thirty–five mercenary leaders without breaking a sweat.”

The conversation was interrupted by Ethan’s phone. He checked the caller ID and sighed before

answering.

“Alexander. I thought you were heading to Venezuela.”

‘Change of plans, Uncle,” came the young voice. “I was thinking of coming straight back to the States

instead.”

“Good decision,” Ethan replied. “Return home immediately.”

“There’s something else,” Alexander added hesitantly. “Grandma has arranged another dinner with the Sullivan family. She wants you to meet their daughter.”

Ethan’s expression hardened. “I have absolutely no interest in the Sullivan heiress. Make that clear

to her.”

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“But Grandma insists-”

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“I don’t care what she insists. End of discussion.” Ethan ended the call abruptly, his jaw tight with

irritation.

Connor raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

On a private island in the Caribbean, a group of men sat around a polished obsidian table. The room was dimly lit, with state–of–the–art security systems visible at every entrance.

“The footage from Venezuela is concerning,” said a man in an impeccable suit, sliding a tablet across the table. “This woman, who calls herself Jade Morgan, displays fighting techniques identical to

Shadow’s.”

The figure at the head of the table watched the video of Jade dismantling thirty–five opponents with clinical precision. His face remained impassive, but his fingers tightened slightly on his armrest.

“Shadow was trained with countless resources by our organization,” he finally said, his voice cold and dismissive. “No one deserves to be compared to her.”

“But sir, the similarities are undeniable. The same unique combination of techniques, the same

efficiency-”

“Enough,” the leader cut him off. “What do we know about this girl?”

Another man cleared his throat. “She claims to be the new leader of Titan Defense Group. She’s operating in Venezuela, seemingly with Transcendent Military Alliance’s blessing.”

“Investigate her thoroughly,” the leader ordered. “If she’s one of Shadow’s protégés, eliminate her immediately.”

“There’s more,” the first man added. “Our preliminary investigation shows she’s never left Cloud City before this trip to Venezuela. There’s no record of her ever encountering Shadow.”

“That’s impossible,” the leader snapped. “No one naturally fights like that.”

“We’ve discovered something else,” the second man continued. “Three months ago–around the time of Shadow’s death–this Jade Morgan underwent a dramatic personality change. From an overweight, bullied teenager to… this.”

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The leader leaned forward, suddenly interested. “And her background?”

“That’s the most intriguing part,” the man replied. “She’s not actually a Morgan. She’s from the Sullivan family in New York.”

The leader’s eyes narrowed. “Continue surveillance. I want to know everything about her.”

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Jade’s POV:

I spotted Ethan Haxton coming down the hallway of the Transcendent Military Alliance compound, his expensive shoes clicking against the polished floor. It was late, and I hadn’t expected to run into

anyone.

“Can’t sleep, Miss Morgan?” he asked, stopping a respectful distance away.

“Just stretching my legs,” I replied, studying his face. He looked perfectly put together even at this

hour.

“I could keep you company if you’d like,” he offered with a slight smile.

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Getting addicted to sleeping in sofa, Mr. Haxton?”

His smile didn’t waver. “Just trying to be hospitable.”

“I’m curious,” I said, taking a step closer. “Do you think you could beat me in a fight?”

The question seemed to amuse him. “I doubt there are many people in this world who would be a

match for you, Miss Morgan.”

“Smart answer.” I tilted my head. “Aren’t you afraid I might break your wrist?”

“Should I be?” His eyes met mine, unflinching.

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. It was Night,

I answered, putting it on speaker without thinking. “Yes?”

“I’m sending you some Macallan M whisky to celebrate your La Corona record,” Night’s voice came through clearly. “Breaking Nobody’s thirty–three–win streak deserves something special.”

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“Thanks,” I replied. “While you’re at it, add it to the list of bottles I owe to certain people. Five hundred dollars for one…”

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“You’ve become easy to please,” Night chuckled. “I remember when you wouldn’t touch anything less than thirty–year–old single malts.”

I noticed Ethan watching me with interest and quickly switched to text messaging.

On my phone, I typed to Night: I need you to sell the cars at my Monaco villa. Keep the Koenigsegg One:1, but get rid of the rest.

Night’s reply came quickly: Money problems? That’s new. Your offshore accounts are untouched.

They’re being monitored. Using them would alert Shadow Organization.

How much do you need? A few million? I can transfer it immediately.

I glanced at Ethan, who was pretending not to be interested in my conversation.

I need to pay Titan Defense Group properly and build a four–thousand square foot villa. The usual rates.

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