Chapter b272 /b

A

b170 /b

Jade’s POVb: /b

The bprivate /bjet touched down at bMoscow /bInternational Aliport with barely a whisper. Through the window, I bcould /bbsee /ban impressive line of ck SUVs waiting on the tarmac, nked by at least twenty men in suits and tactical gear. Typical Night.

As I descended the stairs, the cold Russian air hit at my face. Night stood at the bottom, arms wide open, his curly hair dancing in the wind. The moment he spotted me, his face lit up with an almost childish excitement.

“Wee, sweetie!” he called out.

I ignored his theatrics, tossing my backpack at him as I walked past. He caught it effortlessly, unbothered by my coldness.

“Baby” Night’s voice was warm honey, trailing bafter /bme. “Did you miss me?”

“I’m hungry.” I replied tly, continuing toward the lead SUV without breaking stride.

Night immediately perked up, hurrying to catch up. “Home it is! Everything’s ready–all your favorites,”

Night’s private estate sat on the outskirts of Moscow, ba /bsprawling property that would make oligarchs jealous. The meticulous Russian gardens to the left, with their symmetrical pathways band /bcarefully pruned trees. To the right, a private poolplex gleamed under the afternoon sun.

The SUV pulled up to the main houseb, /bwhere a line of staff stood at attention–the housekeeper, chef, and various bassistants/bb, /bball /blooking nervous except for the oldest man, bMikhail/b, who had served Night’s family bfor /bdecades.

I stepped out of the vehicle and walked straight past them toward the dining room, familiar with theyout from previous visits.

I took the seat at the head of the table without hesitation. Night smiled and sat to my right rather than challenging my bim /bto bhis /busual ce.

“bWine/b?” he boffered/b, already uncorking a bottle of what looked like obscenely expensive red.

“bVodka /bfirst,” I bsaid/b, “then wine.”

e room. “Some things never change. He produced a frosted bottle of premium Russian vodka and poured

Night’sugh echoed through the two shots.

The first course arrived–caviar on blini with crème fraiche. I took a bite band /bnodded in approval.

“bGood/b?” Night asked, watching me intensely.

“Yes,” I admitted.

Night beamed. “Then don’t go bback/b. I’ll keep this chef here just for byou/b. Every day, whatever you bwant/b.”

b“/bHow’s your

bfather/b?” I asked between bites of perfectly cooked venison.

“Better, bthanks /bto you.” Night’s voice grew serious. He asks about you. We’ll visit him some day?”

“Like a pretty daughter–inw meeting the inws,” he teased.

“bFuck /boff,” I replied without heat.

Night chuckled. “Remember that surgery you performed? Three years ago? When every doctor in bRussia /bsaid his brain aneurysm was inoperable?” He shook his head in wonder. “They still talk about it in medical circles–the mysterious Dr. ckwell who appeared, saved the great man’s life, then vanished.”

“Speaking of injuries,” I said, “shouldn’t you be worried about Chris?”

Night’s bface /bdarkened. “Jensen? What happened to him?”

“Kidnapped, Torturedb./bb” /b

“Hell live.”

1 finished my wine band /bset down the ss. “Myputer–you still have it?”

“Of course, in my room, in the safe. I charge it regrly, check it monthly. No one’s touched it but me.”

Later that evening, I sat cross–legged on bNight’s /bbed, my oldptop open before me. The screen glowed with familiar code bas /b1 essed the iris recognition program I’d created years ago.

“I need to imnt

iris lenses,” I said without looking bup/b,

“My original pattern needs to be essible.”

Night, leaning bagainst /bthe doorframe, nodded. “bGive /bme a timeline, and III arrange it.”

A weekter, I stood in front of ba /bmirror in Night’s guest bathroom, carefully examining my eyes. The surgery had been wless–the imnted lenses containing my original iris pattern were undetectable, even to me. I blinked a few times, testing the feel.

My visit to Night’s parents had gone bas /bexpected. I’d checked his recovery, confirmed the aneurysm repair was holding, and updated my medical credentials while I bwas /bthere.

The new Russian medical license in bmy /bbag read “Dr. Jade Morgan” now.

b12:31 /bSat, Sep 27

Badass in Disguise.