Treatment 71_Badass in Disguise

Chapter 71 

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 80 

 Ian looked like hell. Blood crusted over half his shaved head, hisbat fatigues torn and filthy as

 the Transcendent Military Alliance guards dragged him into the concrete room. They threw him

 unceremoniously onto the floor in front of me and Ethan Haxton. The Apex Tactical Group leader followed,nding beside him with a pathetic whimper that echoed in the sparse interrogation chamber. Both men were bound tightly, industrial zip ties cutting into their wrists until thin lines of

 blood trickled down their fingers.

 When Ian tried to struggle to his feet, one of the guards kicked him squarely in the ribs, sending him back down to his knees with a grunt of pain. I couldn’t help but smile, enjoying the role reversal. Earlier, he’d been the one giving orders, threatening Connor and Zach. Now he knelt before me, broken and bleeding.

 Ethan stood silently beside me, his expression unreadable. His green eyes calcted everything, missing nothing as he observed the scene with the detached interest of a chess master watching pieces being removed from the board.

 Ian’s eyes widened when they finally focused on me. Recognition flickered across his scarred face,

 followed quickly by confusion that morphed into disbelief.

 “You?” he croaked, voice rough from the zip tie that had been around his throat during transport. “Who the fuck are you really?”

 I crouched down to his level, meeting his gaze directly. The room smelled of sweat, blood, and fear-

 a familiar cocktail from my previous life.

 Ian’s remaining eye narrowed, the pupil constricting with shock. “What’s the rtionship between you and that Ameri…”

 I moved faster than anyone expected, grabbing his throat with one hand, squeezing just enough to cut off his words but not his air. My fingers found pressure points with practiced precision.

 “La persona que hizo explotar tu campamento.” The person who blew up your camp. My Spanish was wless, the same dialect he’d used when giving orders to his men.

 “Behind Ian, the Apex leader watched our exchange with growing horror. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his eyes darted between me and the exit. He’d already seen what I could do with my bare hands–to his own hands, specifically. The memory of me precisely severing the tendons in his wrists must have been fresh in his mind, judging by how his useless hands trembled despite the restraints.”

 10:19 Sat, Sep 20 

 The door mmed open as Ryan strode into the room, his expression grim. His tactical vest was sttered with what looked like blood, and his knuckles were raw.

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 “Boss,” he said, addressing me directly despite Ethan’s presence. “They brought Zach in. Both his legs 

 are broken.”

 My expression cooled instantly, warmth draining from my face like water down a drain. I released Ian’s throat with deliberate slowness and turned my attention to the Apex leader, whose face had gone ashen at Ryan’s report.

 “It wasn’t me,” he blurted, words tumbling out in panic. “I swear to God, it was Ian’s idea. I didn’t touch your man. I was just there for the doctor–for Dr. ckwell. Please, you have to believe me!” 

 Ethan reached inside his tailored jacket and pulled out a sleek ck handgun. The movement was casual, almost elegant. He offered it to me, grip first, his eyes never leaving the two prisoners.

 “So you don’t get your hands dirty,” he said quietly, the first words he’d spoken since we entered the

 room. 

 I took the weapon, feeling its perfect bnce. German engineering at its finest–likely a custom piece worth more than most cars.

 “Cut him loose,” I said, nodding toward the Apex leader.

 The guards looked to Ethan, their true allegiance clear. He gave a slight nod, and they moved forward, producing tactical knives that sliced through the zip ties binding the Apex leader’s wrists and ankles.

 The moment he was free, desperation took over. He scrambled up, adrenaline momentarily overriding the pain of his mangled hands. He bolted for the door, stumbling and frantic.

 I raised the gun and fired twice in rapid session. Two precise shots, one through each thigh. The sound echoed in the concrete room like thunder as he copsed with a howl of pain, writhing on the floor just short of the exit. Blood immediately began pooling beneath him, dark against the gray

 concrete,

 “Not lethal,” I noted clinically. “But you won’t be running anywhere for a while.”

 I walked over to him calmly, my boots leaving faint red prints from where I’d stepped through his blood. I crouched down beside his trembling form. His eyes were wide with terror as he clutched at his bleeding legs.

 2/4 

 10:19 Sat, Sep 20 

 …

 “You wanted Dr. ckwell to fix your hands,” I said softly, almost intimately. “Well, here I am.”

 Understanding dawned on his face, followed byplete despair. He stopped struggling, his body going limp as the fight drained out of him.

 I stood, addressing Ryan without looking away from the bleeding man. “Find a doctor. Keep them both alive. Zach gets to decide what happens to them when he’s back on his feet.”

 Ryan nodded, already on his phone.

 “Just alive?” he asked, a slight gleam in his eye.

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 “The pulse stays. Everything else is negotiable.” I looked back at Ian, who was watching the exchange with new understanding–and fear.

 Ryan’s smile was cold. “Understood, boss.”

 As the guards dragged both men away, leaving smears of blood on the concrete, Ethan came to stand beside me. His cologne–something expensive and understated–temporarily masked the metallic

 scent of blood.

 “Nice shooting,” hemented, hands in his pockets. “Double tap, both non–lethal but incapacitating. Military training?”

 I checked the safety and held the gun out to him. “Nice gun. German precision.”

 “Keep it if you like it.” He made no move to take it back.

 I considered the offer, then tucked the weapon into my waistband. “I do like German engineering.”

 We walked together toward the exit, our footsteps echoing on the concrete.

 “You came back fast,” I said, ncing at him. “But you didn’t help.”

 Ethan’s lips quirked upward. “You seemed to have things well in hand. I’ve learned to recognize when my intervention would be… superfluous.”

 “Connor is important to you,” I noted. “Your right–hand man.”

 “He is.” Something in his tone suggested there was more to the rtionship than mere business.

 10:19 Sat, Sep 20 

 “And Zach is important to me.”

 Ethan studied me for a long moment. “I understand debts, Miss Morgan. I pay mine.”

 I stopped walking, turning to face him directly. “Even a drop of kindness deserves a flood in return,

 let alone an entire life.”

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 His green eyes held mine, searching. “What does Miss Morgan want? If it’s within my power, consider

 it yours.”

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Treatment 71