Badass in Disguise (Shadow) novel Chapter 52

Chapter 52

La Corona isn’t just any mercenary gathering–it’s the main event in Venezuela’s underground combat world. Hosted by the Transcendent Military Alliance, it draws the most elite fighters from across the globe. I’d been here before, of course, when I was Nobody. Now I’m back as Jade Morgan, though the objective remains the same: dominate.

The venue sprawls across Venezuela’s northwestern border–civilization to the west, wilderness to the east. Perfect for an event that exists in the gray space between legitimate competition and outright warfare. Mercenary teams have already established temporary camps throughout the eastern wilderness. The air smells like gun oil, sweat, and ambition.

“Want to check out the area, Zachie?” I ask, nodding toward the bustling camps. The nickname slips out naturally, just as it did in my previous life.

Zach’s face contorts like I’ve offered him a shit sandwich. “Don’t call me that,” he growls, adjusting his tactical vest with unnecessary force.

I shrug, letting a hint of a smile play on my lips. “Force of habit.”

“What habit?” he snaps. “We just met a week ago.”

Ryan shoots me a curious look but says nothing.

“We should keep a low profile,” Ryan warns, scanning the area. His fingers tap rhythmically against his holster, a nervous habit I recognize from before. “Half the teams here have a grudge against us, and they’re all watching. This isn’t just about competition anymore–it’s about revenge.”

Xavier limps over, his injured leg healing but still stiff. The desert wind whips sand against his tactical pants as he tosses me a rolled–up blanket. “Desert gets cold as fuck at night. Don’t freeze to death, little girl!”

I catch it without looking, my eyes fixed on the surrounding camps. “Thanks for the concern.”

The irony isn’t lost on me. In my previous life, I’d lectured Xavier about desert temperature drops at least a dozen times. Now he’s passing that knowledge back to me, unaware he’s teaching his former teacher.

My gaze drifts across the makeshift campground. To earn back my reputation, I’d need thirty–three consecutive victories–matching Nobody’s legacy. Each win in La Corona adds a mark to your reputation, a notch that mercenary groups respect. Nobody–me–had never been defeated. Now I

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Chapter 52

need to reclaim that perfect record, even if it means fighting my way through every mercenary in

Venezuela.

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“You know,” I say quietly, mostly to myself, “they say it takes thirty–three consecutive wins here to

be truly respected.”

Ryan’s head snaps toward me. “Nobody told you that.” It’s not a question.

I maintain my poker face. “Word gets around.”

As dusk approaches, hundreds of temporary camps dot the landscape like a chaotic, militarized festival. The elite of the mercenary world have gathered, their weapons gleaming in the fading light.

Campfires flicker to life, casting long shadows across the rocky ground. I feel their eyes on us as we

move through the area–predatory, calculating, hungry for weakness.

Titan Defense Group’s return to prominence has made us a target. We’re no longer the pitiful has-

beens of last week. The whispers follow us: They’ve found a new leader. The girl fights like Nobody. Titan is back in the game.

“Let them come,” I mutter, meeting a particularly hostile stare from a Russian group whose leader

sports a scar across his left cheek. “If they’re eager to die.”

Night falls quickly in the desert. People begin moving toward the main arena for the evening’s first matches, a steady stream of the world’s deadliest flowing toward the valley. Our small group joins

the flow, and immediately I feel the shift in attention. Heads turn. Conversations pause. Eyes narrow.

In this world of hardened killers, I stand out–young, female, and unfamiliar to most. Yet I move with

the confidence of someone who belongs here more than anyone else. The contradiction draws

attention like blood in shark–infested waters.

“That’s her,” someone whispers loudly enough for me to hear, a bearded man with arms thick as tree trunks. “The one who took down Apex’s leader.”

“Heard she’s Nobody’s replacement,” another voice responds, belonging to a woman with a tactical

knife strapped to each thigh.

“Bullshit. Nobody was legendary. This girl’s just a flash in the pan.”

Ryan walks beside me, his hand resting casually on his holstered sidearm. “You’re making quite an impression,” he says quietly, eyes scanning the crowd for immediate threats.

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“That’s the idea,” I reply, my voice carrying just enough for nearby eavesdroppers. I want them nervous. I want them watching.

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The arena sits nestled in a natural valley, with high ground surrounding it on all sides–perfect for spectators to look down on the battles below. The packed dirt floor has absorbed the blood of countless fighters over the years, including my own. Ryan leads us to an inconspicuous spot near the eastern rim, away from the more prominent mercenary groups.

Zach bounces on his heels, excitement overriding his earlier annoyance. “I’m putting money on the Russian to win the first match,” he says, eyes bright with anticipation. “He destroyed three guys in

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