Shadow’s Redemption

Chapter Five: The Diamond Palace

Opening the car door and looking at Felix “Flick” Shadow sitting in the jeep, Colonel Marcus “Mace” Reed said, "Hey, little shrimp, you can head home now."

Seeing Flick clinging to his seat like an octopus, Jaxon “Jax” Kane couldn't help but chuckle, no matter how grim his mood was. He reached out and ruffled Flick's short, messy hair with a smile, "Alright, come on in with us then. It’s just a quick thank you; it’ll only take a minute. You live in this sector anyway, right? I’ll walk you back to your place in a bit."

Ignoring Mace’s hesitation, Jax reached out and pulled Flick toward the entrance.

Although he had lived in the high-security military compound for eight years, this was the first time Flick had stepped inside this manor—a building that symbolized absolute power and federal authority.

The deep navy wool carpet, thick and plush underfoot, and the striking brass reliefs of eagles and battlefield scenes on the walls further demonstrated the owner's refined, iron-fisted taste.

Stepping into this estate, which represented total majesty for the first time, not to mention the soft carpets, the artistically powerful wall art, or the expensive mahogany furniture, just the sheer number of distinctively styled wings and studies was enough to make Flick feel like a stray cat wandering into a palace, sighing with pure admiration.

Lieutenant General Ray Garrison, in his fifties with silvering temples but still vibrating with an energy and authority that only sharpened with age, sat in the main study with a commander. Judging from their casual posture, it was clear that their bond went far beyond the standard chain of command.

Even the arrogant Mace Reed gave a respectful nod to this commander, making no attempt to hide the predatory glint in his eyes, which only served to highlight the man’s extraordinary background.

Jax’s eyes suddenly went wide.

Because the high-definition monitor that General Garrison and the commander were watching was playing a live security feed of him entering the "Annianhua" Club and executing Liam Yates, captured by the club’s own surveillance system!

Such lethal efficiency was beyond what Jax, at his age, could grasp. Keep in mind that from the moment he walked out of that club to the moment he stood inside this manor, barely thirty minutes had ticked by!

After watching the footage to the end, the commander’s gaze swept across the room and landed directly on Jax’s face.

There was no snarl, no forced intimidation, but meeting those eyes—which seemed shrouded in a haunting, cold mist—Jax felt a sharp, primal intuition. It was the frantic instinct a rabbit feels when staring at a wolf, and his heart rate spiked instantly.

There seemed to be a density of spirit about this commander that was impossible to shake off, creating an aura that wasn't loud, but which made it impossible for anyone to maintain eye contact or even feel safe standing near him.

Seeing Jax trembling slightly in this vacuum of power, yet still biting his lip and staring back without flinching, and then noticing the smaller boy holding Jax’s hand tightly while eyeing the room with shared defiance, the commander gave a nearly invisible nod. In a deep voice, he said, "I have to admit, kid, you surprised me."

His vocal cords sounded like they had been shredded by shrapnel; his voice was a hoarse, powerful rumble that carried a heavy sense of oppression. "You had clearly made peace with dying and could no longer hold back the bloodlust, yet before entering that club, you walked past four armed guards looking like you didn't have a care in the world. You carried that plastic jug all the way to the seventh floor, making everyone believe you were just a common delivery boy."

The commander’s gaze shifted, settling on the plastic jug Mace had casually retrieved. He studied the pale yellow gasoline remaining inside. "With one move, you doused the entire VIP lounge and flicked a lighter. Even though Liam Yates had half a dozen goons with him, unless they were ready to be burned alive with you, not a single soul dared to move. You forced them to strip, stealing their dignity and their last shred of nerve, leaving them as nothing but ghosts forced to watch as you used a simple blade to drive Liam off that ledge. The angrier you get, the colder you become; once you move, it’s a total, ruthless strike where life is decided in a heartbeat. That is a rare quality."

After saying this, the commander looked away and addressed General Garrison sitting before him, saying, "I’m starting to actually like your grandson."

Grandson!

Upon hearing that impossible word, Flick’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. General Garrison’s eyes also sparked; he leaned forward slightly and asked tentatively, "You’re actually thinking of taking him?"

The commander shook his head, offering no direct answer. He stood up and walked straight to Jax, scrutinizing him for a long, heavy silence before suddenly demanding, "Tell me, why didn't you run the second the job was done?"

“I considered it,” Jax said truthfully. “I killed the Deputy Mayor’s kid. Where exactly was I supposed to go?”

The commander nodded. "And why didn't you ask your grandfather for help? Is your pride really worth more than your life?"

Jax snapped back, "My grandfather died years ago..."

"c***k!"

The commander’s hand moved like lightning, slapping Jax hard across the face.

Looking at Jax, who was both shocked and livid as his cheek began to swell, the commander’s expression darkened. "Liar!"

Jax pointed a finger at General Garrison and screamed, "He isn't worthy of—"

"c***k!"

Jax's words were cut off by a second, sharper blow. The commander roared, "Ray Garrison has lived a life of absolute honor. Men salute him across this country just at the mention of his name. Even if he and your mother had a falling out, do you think you know the truth? Do you know what it’s like to watch your pregnant daughter walk out that door and never see her again? You know nothing, yet you mouth off. Honestly, what I want to know is: what makes you worthy of being a Garrison?!"

The commander pointed at Jax, whose ears were ringing and who was fighting back tears of rage. "I just heard the whole story from the General. Why don’t you ask yourself why you, at fifteen, are obsessed with a girl with a disability and used every trick in the book to tie her to you? There are a million girls out there, and you’re a charmer. Why her?"

Jax was genuinely stunned. He had never examined that question, or perhaps he was hiding from the answer.

"Because you're hollow and pathetic, hiding behind a tough-guy act. You went to Sierra because she has a lifelong disability and is even more broken than you. Only with her can your fragile ego feel like a king. Only she would be fooled by your empty promises, knowing you're just a street punk who plays around, while she stays loyal to a ghost!"

At this moment, the commander’s words were sharper than Jax’s knife: "I think the worst thing that ever happened to Sierra wasn't crossing paths with Liam Yates—it was meeting you! If it weren't for you, she might have just survived. It’s one night, she gets paid, she moves on. It’s better than living for a pretty boy whose sweet talk has no weight and whose promises will be forgotten by next summer."

The commander then gave a knowing, cruel look. "In fact, if she had a choice, Sierra would probably prefer an easier life than kneeling every day to massage strangers' feet, wouldn't she? Otherwise, why would she work at a place like that leisure club if she didn't want the fast track?"

"Go to hell! You don't know her!"

Jax finally broke. After killing Liam, he had accepted his fate, but he could not stand by while his woman was dragged through the dirt, even if the man standing there was a titan he couldn't hope to defeat!

With a primal howl, a desperate struggle between two vastly unequal forces erupted.

Jax launched himself at the commander. He kicked, punched, and lunged, using every limb to strike. He knew better than anyone that against a man like this—whose mere presence could choke the air out of a room—he only stood a chance if he became a total mad dog.

No!

Jax didn't expect a win; he was willing to lose everything just to land one single blow on the man who had insulted his world.

The commander didn’t move until the very last second. As Jax lunged, the older man shifted his weight—a movement so subtle it was almost liquid—and caught Jax’s wrist. With a sharp twist and a low-center shove, he sent the boy sprawling across the navy carpet.

Jax didn't stay down. He rolled, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and charged again. This time, he went low, trying to sweep the commander’s legs. The man simply stepped over the attempt as if avoiding a puddle and delivered a controlled knee to Jax’s midsection. The air left Jax’s lungs in a violent huff, and he collapsed to his hands and knees.

“Is that it?” the commander taunted, his voice like grinding stones. “All that fire for a girl, and you fight like a common street thug? You have the rage of a predator but the discipline of a house cat.”

Flick watched from the corner, his small hands balled into white-knuckled fists. He wanted to help, but the sheer gravity of the violence in the room rooted him to the spot. He saw General Garrison watching the struggle, not with anger, but with a terrifying, clinical curiosity. The General wasn't seeing a grandson being beaten; he was assessing a prototype.

Jax stood up a third time, his face a mask of bruised defiance. Blood leaked from his lip, and one eye was beginning to swell, but the "red mist" the commander had mentioned earlier had returned tenfold. He didn't scream this time. He went silent. He picked up a heavy glass paperweight from a side table and balanced it in his hand.

“Enough!” General Garrison’s voice cracked like a whip.

Jax froze. The commander didn't break his stance, his eyes still locked on Jax’s throat.

“Colonel Reed, take the other boy out for a moment,” Garrison ordered.

Mace Reed stepped forward and gripped Flick’s shoulder. “Come on, kid. Let the grown-ups talk.” Flick looked back at Jax, who was still trembling with adrenaline, before being led out into the hallway.

Once the heavy mahogany doors clicked shut, the atmosphere in the study shifted from combat to negotiation. The commander relaxed his stance, though his eyes remained predatory.

“You have a choice, Jaxon,” Garrison said, walking around his desk. “The police are outside the compound gates. They have a warrant signed by a judge who is on the Deputy Mayor’s payroll. If you walk out that door, you’re a dead man walking. They’ll ‘accidentally’ lose you in transport, or you’ll end up in a cell with five men who have nothing to lose and a bounty on your head.”

Jax spat blood onto the carpet. “So why am I here? To be executed in a nicer room?”

“You’re here because the man who just beat you into the dirt is Commander Victor Kaufman,” Garrison said, gesturing to the scarred man. “And he doesn't like to waste talent. He thinks that with three years of breaking you down, he can turn that murderous instinct of yours into a scalpel for the state.”

Kaufman stepped closer, his shadow engulfing Jax. “I’m going to send you to a place called The Blackwood. It’s not on any map. There are no names there, only numbers. You’ll be trained in every way to kill a man—with a rifle, with a knife, with a whisper. If you survive, you become an asset of the 541st. Your record is wiped. Liam Yates becomes a footnote in a cold case file.”

“And if I don’t survive?” Jax asked.

“Then you’re just another body in the woods,” Kaufman replied simply. “But there’s a catch. Your friend—the Shadow boy. He saw too much. Usually, we’d have to... handle witnesses.”

Jax’s eyes widened. “He’s just a kid. He had nothing to do with it!”

“Then protect him,” Garrison said, his voice softening just a fraction. “The 541st needs scouts. Flick has his father’s eyes and your loyalty. If you go to Blackwood, he goes too. He’ll be trained as your shadow. Your eyes in the dark. If you fail, he fails. If you die, his protection ends.”

Jax looked at the door. He could hear the faint sound of Flick’s nervous breathing on the other side. He thought about Sierra, sitting in her wheelchair, waiting for a boy who would never come home. He realized that the life he knew was over. The "Diamond Palace" of the General’s estate was actually a gateway to a much darker world.

“I’ll go,” Jax whispered. “Just keep him safe.”

Kaufman smiled, a grim expression that didn't reach his cold eyes. “Safety is a luxury you’ve just traded away, kid. From here on out, you only have survival.”

The commander turned to Garrison and nodded. The deal was struck. In the records of the city, Jaxon Kane would be reported as "presumed dead" following a pursuit into the river. But in the secret ledgers of the 541st, a new file was being opened.