Badass in Disguise (Shadow) novel Chapter 280

“Night! I have no quarrel with you! Just hand over that bitch, and we can all walk away!”

Night’s expression darkened. He fired again, the bullet grazing Hunter’s car inches from his head. Hunter ducked, nearly falling in his panic.

“Night, stop!” Hunter yelled. “Be reasonable! Give me the woman, and I promise you and your friend can leave without a scratch. Otherwise, my men won’t hold back!”

Night switched to Russian, unleashing a stream of profanities that would make a sailor blush. He fired again, deliberately missing Hunter but making him cower.

“Are you insane?” Hunter screamed. “You’d kill me over some woman? Do you know who my father is? I’m a senator’s son, for Christ’s sake!”

I slid out from the passenger side, the weight of my Benelli M4 shotgun comfortable in my hands. While Night kept Hunter distracted, I moved silently between vehicles, positioning myself for a clear shot at Hunter’s SUV.

One of his guards spotted me and raised his weapon. I fired first, the shotgun’s blast echoing through the night. The guard crumpled. I pumped the shotgun and continued my approach.

I took aim at the fuel tank of Hunter’s vehicle and pulled the trigger. The explosion was immediate and spectacular. Orange flames burst upward as the SUV’s gas tank ignited, sending a shockwave that knocked Hunter off his feet despite his bodyguard’s warning shout.

Night used the confusion to advance, picking off the guards who were trying to help Hunter escape. His shots weren’t lethal–he was toying with them, bullets kicking up pavement around their feet like he was making them dance.

Hunter scrambled away on all fours, his injured leg dragging behind him. His face was a mask of terror as he realized how badly he had miscalculated.

“You–you can’t do this,” he stammered as Night approached, gun aimed casually at his kneecap. “My father will-”

The bullet tore through Hunter’s knee, cutting off his sentence and replacing it with a scream of agony. He collapsed, clutching his shattered joint.

“Your father will what?” Night asked, crouching beside the whimpering man.

Hunter crawled backward, leaving a smear of blood on the asphalt. “You can’t kill me,” he gasped. “My father won’t let you get away with

this.”

Night didn’t respond. Instead, he stood and fired at another nearby SUV. The bullet punctured its fuel tank, and seconds later, another explosion lit up the night sky.

Chris joined us, his own pistol in hand. “My turn,” he said, aiming at a different vehicle and firing. Another explosion rocked the street.

I selected my own target, sending a shotgun shell into a fourth SUV. The blast was satisfying, the vehicle erupting into flames.

One by one, we methodically triggered explosions, turning Hunter’s fleet into a ring of fire. Each shot, each explosion, made Hunter flinch and cower lower to the ground. By the time we finished, he’d soiled himself, the dark stain visible on his pants as he lay surrounded by burning wreckage.

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Chapter 280

Distant sirens walled, growing louder by the second.

“Time to go, Night said, holstering his weapon. We returned to our SUV, leaving Hunter sobbing in the middle of his destroyed convoy.

As we sped away, AC/DC blasted through the speakers. Night drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his earlier anger completely gone.

I’m thinking sushi, Chris suggested from the backseat, as casual as if we were leaving a movie theater rather than a battlefield.

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