Page 115 of Chad's Chase
There were only two people in this world who could break Chad’s calm and make him so fucking infuriated he felt like he would poke his own eyeballs out or bite off his own tongue. And those two people were Jhay and Org.
Like father, like daughter.
Org entered the house, stepped over Clementine’s body like she was just a twig in a dry forest, and headed for the one good sofa chair in the room.
Org was a tall man. Over six feet four, with a full head of white hair and emerald-green eyes, exactly like his daughter’s. Six years Rafail’s senior, he’d inherited his seat in The Organization since age nineteen. Three years prior to Jhay, he’d gotten a son. This foolhardy son had volunteered to be an assassin for The Organization, only to end up dying on his second assignment.
Jhay was all he had left, a daughter he searched a dozen years to find. Never married, he’d only ever loved one woman, Jhay’s mother. Aside from that love, Org was an emotionally detached, heartless, cold, inexpressive man, who had some serious fucking issues. He didn’t care to let his daughter know the truth, that he was her real father. He only wanted her to remain alive and safe, and Chad presumed this was so she could carry on his legacy.
No other reasons. Not because he loved her. Not because he was a father who cared about his long-lost daughter.
“You know, Shadreek,” Org began once he was settled in the sofa chair, “for years you have been acclaimed as ‘the best The Organization had ever seen’. But after today, I have to say differently; you are the stupidest man I have ever known.”
Chad opted not to respond to that, because he knew where he was going with this.
“You told me what you discovered about Sambo and Rafail,” Org continued, “and I gave you complete control of my entire team. Instead of using this power to your advantage, all you did was hand your woman over to another man, and hand your life over to your power-hungry father. I do not understand this.”
Of course he wouldn’t. Because he was a selfish headfuck who thought only of himself, and had he been the one in this position, he would’ve risked Jhay’s life to save his own skin.
Chad, on the other hand, wanted Jhay as far away from this scene as possible. He never told her about this, because if he had, and told her he didn’t want her there, she would’ve told him she wasn’t a little girl and insist on staying and facing Rafail with him. And if he’d allowed her, then she wound up dead in the process, he never would be able to live with himself.
His ordering Jhay to stay in the car was a test to prove to himself that he’d made the right decision shutting her out. Her inability to do as he’d ordered told him he had.
Yes, he knew she was a badass who could fight her boots off and hold her own, but she needed a fucking break. She’d had enough shit handed her already. So if he could fight their war for both of them, that’s what he’d be doing.
Sambo, he would deal with later. The guy had banked wrong in believing Rafail would let Jhay live. Sambo knew Jhay was Org’s daughter, but what he didn’t know was that Org named Jhay as the inheritor of his seat as the Pinnacle in The Organization. Had Sambo known this, he would’ve detected right off the bat that Rafail was spitting shit.
Rafail’s main goal was to steal the Pinnacle’s seat in The Organization. And as long as Jhay was alive, that seat would never be his.
“You don’t need to understand,” Chad retorted. “Where.Is.Jhay?”
Org looked away, eyed a wounded Rafail, who was watching them with obvious confusion, then back at Chad. “I am letting Sambo keep her.”
Wha—?
Faster than he even knew he could move, Chad was looming over Org with the P22 pressed to his forehead. “What did you just say?” His words were a hoarse whisper.
From the periphery of his vision, Chad could see the men around them raising their weapons up and down, up and down, unsure whom they were supposed to defend. And that in itself befuddled Chad.
Why would they question who their commander was?
Org didn’t even flinch, raising his bored eyes to Chad’s. “I am letting Sambo keep her because I am naming you instead of her as the inheritor of my seat. I do not want my daughter in this life anymore.”
Struck speechless, Chad removed his gun. “W-what?”
“That is preposterous!” Rafail barked from the floor. “He is not your blood. He cannot supplant you.”
With a wearied wave of his hand, Org ordered, “One of you, put another in his leg and shut him up for me, please.”
Even as his father’s shout rang out from the silenced slug to his leg, Chad didn’t look. He couldn’t. Just shooting him alone made him feel like a traitorous asshole.
But what he planned for dear old Daddy, was that any better than a cap to the leg?
Ignoring Rafail’s Russian curses, Org continued, “When I get rid of your father, Shadreek, you will inherit his seat. Now, if while alive and in a sound mind I name you as my inheritor with indisputable reasons why you are better to lead The Organization than anyone else within, no one will mind that we are not blood. Reason one, you are the son of a previous Height. Reason two, you were once an unfailing assassin for us. In fact, I have already discussed this with the six high-seats—excluding your father—and they all think you will be perfect for supplanting me as Pinnacle. The gavel is yours.”
Chad tightened his grip on his gun, and if the thing weren’t steel, he was certain it would be crushed to dust.
“You will stay, and govern. The authority I gave you over my men does not expire until you die. My army is now your army. They do as you say.”
