Badass in Disguise (Shadow) novel Chapter 69

Chapter 69

Author’s POV:

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In a dimly lit building on the outskirts of town, the once–proud headquarters of Apex Tactical Group stood in disarray. Dust gathered on unused equipment, and the few remaining men looked like

ghosts haunting an abandoned fortress. In the central office, their leader sat slumped in a leather chair, staring at his mangled hands–tendons severed with surgical precision, fingers permanently

curled into useless claws.

“Boss,” one of his remaining loyal men said, hovering near the doorway. “We lost three more guys to Titan this morning.”

The leader’s eyes, bloodshot from lack of sleep and excess alcohol, flickered with rage. “How many

does that make now?”

“Over half our force. Ever since that bitch took over and humiliated you at La Corona…”

“Don’t. Mention. That.” Each word dripped with venom as he struggled to lift a glass of whiskey with

his ruined hands.

The man shifted uncomfortably. “There’s something else. I’ve been talking to a contact at Memorial

Hospital. There’s an American surgeon named Dr. Blackwell who specializes in microsurgery. They might be able to-”

The leader’s head snapped up, hope briefly illuminating his haggard face. “Where? How much?”

Before his subordinate could answer, the door swung open. A man with Southeast Asian features walked in, flanked by two armed guards. His left eye was marred by a jagged scar that pulled at the corner of his lid, and a fresher wound created a pink line across his neck.

“Gentlemen,” the newcomer said, his accent difficult to place. “I believe I can help with your…

situation.”

“Who the fuck are you?” the Apex leader growled.

The man smiled, revealing perfect teeth. “My name is Ian. And I happen to know Dr, Blackwell personally,”

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Zach wandered aimlessly through the Transcendent Military Alliance compound, kicking at loose stones and avoiding the main pathways. As Titan’s youngest member, he should have been running drills or maintaining equipment, but his mind was elsewhere.

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He found himself approaching the private villa where she was staying. Jade Morgan. The new boss. who had somehow earned the respect of Ryan and Xavier in record time. Despite his initial resistance, he had to admit her skills were impressive–the fighting style, the tactical knowledge, her natural leadership. But accepting her meant letting go of Nobody, the commander he’d idolized, and he wasn’t ready for that yet.

Zach stopped short of the villa’s perimeter. He couldn’t face her yet. Not when his mind was still mourning the commander he’d followed faithfully, the one whose death had shattered Titan’s foundation. Nobody had been like no other, and no matter how qualified this Jade Morgan was, his loyalty to his former leader’s memory held him back.

“Lost?” a voice called out.

Zach turned to see Connor Haxton approaching, tablet in hand, expression neutral but eyes

calculating.

“Just stretching my legs,” Zach replied.

Connor nodded toward the direction Zach had been walking. “That’s Miss Morgan’s temporary

residence.”

“I know.” Zach turned away. “Something happen at base?”

“Actually, yes. We’ve got reports of trouble at the eastern mining operation. I was just heading there

to check it out.”

Zach seized the opportunity. “I’ll come with you. Better than standing around here.”

In the SUV, Connor kept glancing at Zach in the rearview mirror. “So, you’ve known Jade Morgan for how long exactly?”

Zach’s face remained impassive. “Not long. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious about her background. She seems… unusually skilled for someone her age.”

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“You think?” Zach replied dryly. “What’s Ethan’s interest in her anyway?”

Connor’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Mr. Haxton sees potential in unique individuals.”

“Potential, huh?” Zach snorted. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Neither man gained the information they sought, and the rest of the drive passed in silence.

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Jade’s POV:

I sat on the windowsill of my temporary bedroom, nursing a glass of Night’s ridiculously expensive whiskey and watching the compound below. The military precision of the guards‘ movements reminded me of my former life–structured, disciplined, deadly.

A commotion near the eastern gate caught my attention. Several men were rushing toward the command center, their movements urgent. Something was wrong.

I set down my glass and headed downstairs. In the central courtyard, I intercepted a young soldier jogging toward the communications building.

“What’s happening?” I asked, my voice automatically taking on the commanding tone I’d used as Nobody.

He hesitated, then seemed to recognize me as someone important. “Connor Haxton and one of your men have been taken, ma’am.”

My blood ran cold. “Taken? By whom?”

“Unknown hostiles. They were ambushed returning from the eastern operation.”

The monitoring room was a hive of controlled chaos when I entered. Screens displayed satellite imagery, communication channels buzzed with chatter, and technicians worked frantically at their stations.

“Who authorized you to be in here?” a heavyset man demanded, rising from his chair. “This area is restricted.”

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I ignored him, moving directly to the main display. “Show me the last known location.”

A young technician looked up.

“Everyone here has subcutaneous trackers,” he explained, pulling up a map. “Standard TMA protocol. But the signal from Connor’s tracker went dark about twenty minutes ago.”

“Jamming technology?”

“Most likely. The trackers are our most advanced models–military grade. Whoever took them knew exactly what they were doing.”

“The tech expertise required to block these signals is considerable,” I noted, studying the display.

The technician looked frustrated. “The tracking is difficult. Our best computer expert was actually Connor, but Connor…” He gestured helplessly at the screen showing the lost signal.

I nodded, processing this information. “Where’s Ethan?”

“Mr. Haxton left early this morning,” another staff member replied.

“The call is coming through!” someone shouted.

The main screen flickered, then stabilized with audio only.

“We have your men,” a distorted voice announced. “If you want them back alive, Ethan Haxton comes alone to the coordinates we’re sending. Montana Range, Alaska.”

I recognized the voice immediately, despite the distortion. Ian.

“Signal origin?” I asked.

“Kansas,” the technician replied. “Moving north toward Alaska. But we can’t confirm if the hostages are with them.”

As the technicians scrambled to trace the signal more precisely, the door burst open. Ryan and Xavier rushed in, faces grim.

“Boss,” Ryan said. “Zach’s gone too.”

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