<b>Chapter </b><b>120 </b>


    Jade’s POV:


    I sat <b>across </b>from Chris in the dimly lit bar, watching as he swirled amber liquid in his ss.


    “So,” Chris leaned forward, his piercing blue eyes studying my face. “Does the Shadow Organization know you’re still breathing?”


    I traced the rim of my ss with my finger<b>, </b>considering how much to reveal. “They’ve caught wind of it. In Venezu, during the La Corona tournament, I reimed my title.”


    Chris’s eyebrows shot up. “You actually participated in that bloodbath? As yourself?”


    “As Jade,” I corrected. “It was necessary. I needed to reestablish certain connections.”


    “And now they’re watching you,” Chris concluded, his voice dropping even lower.


    I nodded. “That’s why I told Night not toe see me. If they’re monitoring him, his presence would only confirm their suspicions about my identity.”


    A small smile yed at the corner of Chris’s mouth. “Should I be touched that you reached out to me? Night mentioned you’ve been keeping your distance from old contacts.”


    <b>I </b>rolled my eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”


    “Toote,” he grinned, lifting his ss in a mock toast. “The infamous Shadow, back from the dead and calling me first. I’m practically honored.”


    I leaned back in my seat, allowing myself a small smile. “The Shadow Organization and I have unfinished business. Sooner orter, they’ll make their move.”


    “And when they do?” Chris asked, his yful demeanor fading into something more serious.


    ‘I’ll be ready.” The ss felt cool against my palm as I lifted it. “I’ve been ready since I opened my eyes in this body.”


    Chris nodded, his expression grim but determined. “If you need anything–manpower, equipment, just say the word. My resources are <b>at </b>your disposal.”


    “I know.” And I did. Despite everything, Chris had always been reliable.


    His expression shifted, bing more curious. “Speaking of resources… Night mentioned you’ve made a new friend. Something about an expensive watch?<b>” </b>


    I kept my face carefully neutral. “Just an investor I met. Nothing special.”


    12:27 Mon, <b>Sep </b><b>22 </b>


    “An investor?” Chris’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Night also mentioned he’s twenty–nine. Said, and I quote, ‘Jade wouldn’t be interested in an old man.“”


    “Night’s mouth runs like a garbage truck,” I muttered, taking another sip of my drink. The liquor burned pleasantly down my throat.


    “So who is he?” Chris pressed, leaning forward with obvious interest.


    I met his gaze steadily. “Just someone who crossed my path. Nothing more.”


    Chris didn’t look convinced, but he dropped the subject, knowing when not to push. We spent the next few hours catching up, carefully avoiding the topic of my death and resurrection. The afternoon stretched into evening, and the bar gradually filled with patrons as darkness fell outside.


    By ten o’clock, we’d moved to a VIP booth in the corner, and several empty bottles lined our table. Neither of us was drunk–our tolerance was far too high for that–but we had settled into afortable rhythm of conversation that onlyes with shared history.


    Our chat was interrupted when a man with a buzz cut and several visible tattoos approached our table, nked by seven or eight men who looked like they were trying too hard to be intimidating.


    “Well, hello there, beautiful,” Buzz Cut said, his eyes fixed on me while ignoring Chrispletely. “What’s a girl like you doing in a ce like this?”


    I didn’t even bother looking at him, continuing my conversation with Chris.


    Buzz Cut’s face reddened at being ignored. He stepped closer, reaching out to put his arm around my shoulders. “Hey<b>, </b>I’m talking to-”


    Before his hand could touch me, Chris’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, stopping the movement mid–air. The man’s eyes widened in surprise.


    “Thedy and I are having a conversation,” Chris said, his voice pleasant but carrying an unmistakable edge. “I suggest you find another table.”


    Buzz Cut looked down at Chris’s hand on his wrist, then tried to pull away. He couldn’t move. Chris’s grip, while appearing casual, was like iron.


    “Do you know who I am?” Buzz Cut snarled, switching tactics. “What do you do for a living, suit?”


    Chris released his wrist and straightened his tie. “I’m just a regr litigation attorney.”


    “Well, I’m a member of the local crew,” Buzz Cut sneered, rubbing his wrist. “And this is our territory<b>.</b><b>” </b>


    His friends moved closer, forming <b>a </b>semicircle around our booth. The few other patrons in the bar suddenly found <b>reasons </b>to look away or leave altogether.


    a


    “Listen,wyer man, Buzz Cut continued, emboldened by his audience. “Here’s what’s going to happen. My boys are going to take you outside and teach you some manners. Then the prettydy is going to have a drink with me.” He leaned down, his breath reeking of cheap whiskey. “What would they charge me for that, counselor? Assault?


    Battery?”


    Chris took a slow, deliberate sip of his drink. “They wouldn’t charge you anything.”


    Buzz Cut grinned, thinking he’d won. “Smart man. Now,e on-


    “It’s getting a bit noisy,” I said to Chris, ignoring Buzz Cutpletely. “You or me?”


    Chris finished his drink in one smooth motion and set the ss down carefully. “I’ve got this one.”


    What happened next was almost too fast for a normal person to follow. Chris’s elbow shot up, connecting with Buzz Cut’s nose with a sickening crunch. As the man staggered backward, Chris was already on his feet, moving with the fluid grace of someone who’d spent years perfecting the art of violence.


    One of Buzz Cut’s friends lunged forward, only to have his arm twisted behind his back. Another pulled a knife, which Chris promptly removed from his possession before using the man’s momentum to send him crashing into two others. Within seconds, all eight men were on the floor in various states of pain and confusion.


    I watched, admiring the way Chris’s tailored suit barely wrinkled as he moved. There was something undeniably appealing about a man who could fight with such precision while dressed for a board meeting. It reminded me of how Ethan might look if he ever had to get his hands dirty–probably just asposed, just as lethal in his custom-


    made suit.


    Chris grabbed Buzz Cut by the cor and lifted him halfway off the floor. “The reason they wouldn’t charge you,” he said calmly, as if continuing their earlier conversation, ‘is because you wouldn’t have the opportunity to file aint.”


    He dropped the man unceremoniously back to the ground. Buzz Cut scrambled to his feet, backing away with hist hand covering his bloody nose.


    “You’re dead,wyer,” he spat, pointing a shaking finger at Chris. “You hear me? Dead! I’ming back with more guys, and you’re both going to regret this!”


    <b>He </b>turned to his friends, who were slowly picking themselves up off the floor. “Watch them! Don’t let them leave!” Then he stormed out of the bar, leaving a trail of blood droplets on the wooden floor.


    Chris straightened his cuffs and sat back down across from me, as casual as if he’d just returned from the restroom. ‘Where were we?”


    I allowed myself a small smile. “Your life in Toronto.”