bChapter /bb289 /b

Jade’s POV:

I returned to Ss’s apartment with antiseptic and bandages, finding him sitting motionless by the window. The ce looked tidier than when I’d left–broken ss swept away, furniture righted. He turned at the sound of the door.

“Sit, I ordered, gesturing to the bed.

He obeyed without a word, perching on the edge of the mattress as I soaked a cotton ball in alcohol. His split lip twitched when I pressed the antiseptic to it, but he didn’t make a sound.

“You’re quiet,” I remarked, tilting his face to check for other injuries.

Ss stared ahead. “I’m sorry.”

Ss took a few days off after that night. When I asked about his absence during our next tutoring session, he mentioned picking up a part–time job, promising he’d be back in ss soon. I didn’t push for details.

Days melted into one another, filled with sses and my usual routine. Max found me in the kitchen one evening, his eyes bright with that look that meant he was plotting something.

“So, how are things with Ethan?” he asked, trying and failing to sound casual.

I stirred my coffee. “There are no ‘things‘ with Ethan.”

“Come on, Jade. You two were good together.” Max leaned against the counter. “I know you miss him.”

“We’re not the same kind of people, Max.” I took a sip, the bitterness matching my mood. “Better to realize it now thanter.”

Max fidgeted with his phone case. “I need to return Maxi to him this weekend. Would youe with me?”

I’ll think about it.”

“That means we’re going,” Max grinned, already heading for the door. “It’s settled!”

Saturday arrived with unexpectedpany. A knock at the door revealed Ss, looking better than he had in weeks, though his eye still showed fading bruises.

“What happened?” I asked, noting the multiple injuries that definitely hadn’te from his father,

“Nothing,” he replied, a strange half–smile ying on his lips.

He seemed oddly cheerful, almost giddy. His hand kept patting his pocket, as if checking that something was still there.

“Do you have something for me?” I asked directly.

Ss hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. For you,‘ he said, holding it out,

Insidey a delicate silver bracelet, simple but well–crafted.

“Is this what your part–time job paid for? I asked, examining the bracelet. What kind of job?

Ss shifted ufortably. “Underground fighting. Five thousand a match.”

My expression darkened. ‘You have quite the collection of money–making schemes.”

He fell silent, avoiding my gaze.

“Don’t go back,” I said, turning toward the door. “With your skills, it’s suicide.”

“Okay, Ss agreed quickly, following me inside with a hopeful expression.

Max came downstairs dressed for our Haxton mansion visit, then stopped short when he saw me teaching Ss how to navigate aplex database on myptop.

“Sis, we should get going,” he said, ncing between us.

“Go with Zach instead,” I replied without looking up.

Max’s face fell. He looked at Ss, then back at me. “I’m heading back to campus,” he said tly before walking out.

“Is everything okay?” Ss asked after the door closed.

“He wanted me to go with him to see Ethan Haxton,” I said dispassionately, grabbing a nket and stretching out on the sofa. “If you have questions, ask. I’m resting my eyes.”

“Got it,” he murmured, typing quietly.

I dozed off to the gentle tapping of keys, the afternoon sun warming my face through the window. In my half–sleep, I felt Ss’s gaze on me, lingering longer than it should have.

When I woke, the apartment was dimming with twilight. Something smelled good. I found Ss in the kitchen, stirring a pot of what looked like homemade stew.

“You’re cooking?” I asked, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

“I sent your regr chef home,” he exined, turning to face me. “I learned from my mother.”

I nodded, heading to the bathroom to ssh water on my face. When I returned, Ss had set the table,plete with a bottle of red

wine.

b8:18 /bbTue/bb, /bbSep /b30

“bThe /bpresentation isn’t great, but it should taste decent,” he said, serving two steaming bowls..

I took a seat, genuinely impressed by the spread. As I looked at the dishes, a thought urred to me.

“Do you drink?” I asked, getting up.

“Sometimes, he replied.

I’ll get us some wine,‘ I said, walking to the cab where I kept my alcohol. I returned with a bottle and opener, setting them on the table before realizing, “Damn, forgot the ssesb…/b”

I’ll go get them, Ss offered quickly, rising from his seat.

We ate infortable silence. The food was not bad. I found myself taking second helpings.

“Any therapy sessions scheduled for tomorrow?” I asked between bites.

Ss nodded. “Four o’clock.”

“Take your time, no need to rush,” I said. “That guy’s a professional, he knows what he’s doing.”

All your friends are quite impressive,” Ss said, looking thoughtful.

I continued eating, unaware that with each bite, my vision was beginning to blur slightly.

I reached for my ss, but my hand missed by inches. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“Ss, I managed, my head spinning. “What did you-” fn7586 Checktest chapters at FιndＮovel/fn7586

My face hit the table before I could finish the question. bAs /bconsciousness faded, I caught Ss’s expressionpletely calm, watching me with clinical detachment as I copsed.

When I came to, I was seated in the living room, professional–grade handcuffs binding my wrists. Ss sat across from me, dangling a pocket watch before my eyes.

“Tell me, what is your name?” His voice echoed eerily in the vast living room, floating ghostlike through the air.

‘Jade… Morgan.”

“What is your brother’s name?”

“Max… Morgan.”

“What is Chris Jensen to youb?/bb” /b

“A… friend.”

b3/4 /b

8:18 Tue, Sep 30

“Did you kill the Ace of Spades and King of Hearts?”

“Yes…”

Ss leaned closer. “Who do you love? Tell me.”

I remained silent, as if struggling to find an answer.

“Why do you oppose the Shadow Organization?” he pressed.

“Shadow…” I whispered.

“Tell me, where is Shadow?”

I lifted my gaze, letting a mischievous smile spread across my face. “You guess.”

Ss froze as our eyes met, mine fully alert and cold as ice. Horror shed across his face as he realized his hypnosis had failed.

Before he could react, my foot connected with his chest, sending him crashing into the wall. I heard the distinct crack of ribs breaking. Ss gasped in pain, struggling to his knees.

I snapped my thumb out of joint, slipping free of the handcuffs with practiced ease, then quickly reset the bone with a wince.

“When did you figure it out?” Ss wheezed, clutching his chest. He seemed genuinely shocked. “That’s impossible. I never slipped. I was perfect.” He coughed, a trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Was it Chris? Did he suspect something during the therapy?”

“The moment you appeared,” I replied coldly, advancing toward him.

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