Badass in Disguise fn387c This content belongs to /fn387c

bChapter 341 /b

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

“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 nced 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, bI /bspotted 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, ring 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 theptop 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 copsed, an explosion tore through the room. The once–elegant hall instantly became a ughterhouse. 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.

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