Her ribs throbbed in time with her pulse. Her face felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to it. Blood dripped from her split lip onto her lap, small dark spots appearing on her shorts.
But she was alive.
And somewhere out there, Ghost was coming.
She just had to survive long enough for him to find her.
Rachel lifted her head, forcing her spine straight again despite the cost. She started counting, breaths, heartbeats, anything to mark time. To stay present. To keep fighting.
Two hours. She had two hours.
Because that's what she did. She fought.
47
Ghost's knuckles were bleeding.
He registered it distantly, the split skin, the warmth trickling down his fingers, the sting that should have registered as pain but didn't. Not yet. Not while Rachel was out there in enemy hands and every second he wasted was another second they could be hurting her.
Rage sat in his chest, hot and heavy, barely contained by years of tactical training that kept him from putting his fist through Carver's skull.
Across the living room, Ethan Carver was doubled over, one arm wrapped around his ribs. He coughed hard, a wet, painful sound, Ghost's last punch had landed exactly where he'd intended. Spit hit the hardwood floor as Carver straightened slowly, shoulders squaring despite the obvious pain.
"You done?" Carver's voice came out rough and frayed.
Ghost closed the distance in two strides.
His hand grabbed a fistful of Carver's tactical jacket and drove him backward into the wall hard enough that the framed photo beside them shattered. Glass exploded outward, shards hitting the floor with high-pitched tinkling sounds. Ghost pressed his forearm across Carver's throat, pinning him there with enough force that Carver's feet almost left the ground.
Nowhere to dodge. Nowhere to lie.
"Where the fuck is she?" The words came out low and controlled, but Ghost could hear the edge underneath. The violence that wanted to break free and tear this whole house apart until he got answers.
Carver's hands came up, defensive, palms out. His eyes narrowed. "Who?"
Ghost shoved harder, his forearm cutting off Carver's air just enough to make breathing difficult. His own breath came fast, pulse beating hard in his throat. "Rachel. Where are they keeping her?"
Carver's face changed. Confusion in his eyes, in the way his eyebrows drew together. Real or performed, Ghost couldn't tell and didn't care.
"Who the hell is Rachel?"
Ghost's grip tightened on Carver's jacket, the fabric bunching in his fist. Every muscle in his body was locked tight, his shoulders rigid, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. Rage pressed against his ribs, building with each breath, heat spreading through his limbs.
"The journalist," Ghost snarled. "The one who's been documenting your weapons deals with Langley and Hale. The one who photographed you at that airfield transfer three days ago." He leaned in closer, close enough to see the burst capillaries in Carver's eyes. "We've been watching all three of you. So don't fucking lie to me."
Carver's expression shifted, not guilt, but recognition mixed with alarm. His pupils dilated slightly. "If she caught us on camera—"
"They took her." Ghost's voice dropped. "Off my street. An hour ago. Professional snatch. And you're going to tell me where Langley's holding her before I put you through this wall."
Carver shoved back suddenly, catching Ghost off-balance for half a breath. Not enough to break free completely, but enough to get some distance. He straightened, one hand going to his throat, breathing hard.
"I don't know where she is," Carver said quickly. "But if Langley's got her, you don't have much time."
Ghost felt the shift in the room, Torch's posture changing near the window, the way he straightened and turned his full attention this direction. Reaper went absolutely still in the corner. Brick and Predator were positioned near the hallway, weapons holstered but hands hovering close. Everyone waiting to see if this was about to turn into an execution.
"Wrong answer." Ghost's voice came out flat and cold.
"Wait—" Carver held up both hands. "Listen to me. You think I'm part of this. I get it. You've been tailing me with Langley and Hale. You saw me at their meetings." His eyes locked on Ghost's. "But I'm not working for them. I'm working against them."
