Ghost's voice cut through comms. "Where's Langley?"
"I've got him." Rogue's response came back steady.
A beat of silence. "Stay on him. I'm coming."
From somewhere deeper in the warehouse, Ghost heard the impact, a body slamming into metal, the crack echoing off concrete. Then Langley's voice, panicked and pleading. "We can make a deal. I know things, "
"Not interested." Rogue's voice, cold and final.
Ghost was already moving past that sector. His boots hit concrete in a steady rhythm, rifle sweeping left then right as he cleared the space. Stacked crates cast long shadows under flickering overhead lights. The air smelled like rust and old diesel and fear-sweat.
But he barely registered any of it. His focus had narrowed to a single point, finding Rachel.
He moved past shipping containers, around a forklift abandoned at an odd angle. Each step brought him closer to the back section where Carver's wire had been transmitting from. Where Langley had torn her shirt. Where she was still tied to that chair.
His jaw ached. His finger rested just outside the trigger guard, ready.
Then he saw the open space ahead. The chair in the center.
And Rachel.
She was still bound, straining against the zip ties at her wrists. Her chest rose and fell in quick, shallow pulls. Even from here, he could see the tremor running through her shoulders, the way she held herself rigid despite the restraints. Blood had dried in a line down her temple. Bruises darkened along her arms.
Then her gaze found him.
Her eyes widened. Her mouth opened slightly. Relief washed across her face, followed immediately by fear, then something desperate and raw.
Ghost moved toward her. His rifle stayed up, clearing angles automatically while his focus locked on her face. Catalogingdamage. Looking for injuries. For signs of how badly Langley had hurt her.
He closed the gap in long strides, then dropped to one knee in front of her. His blade was already in his hand. The zip ties at her wrists gave way with a single slice. He moved to her ankles next, his hands working fast, efficient.
When the last binding fell away, she slumped forward.
He caught her. His arms came around her and pulled her in, one hand cradling the back of her head. His chest expanded with the breath he'd been holding since he heard that fabric tear. His pulse slammed against his ribs, too fast, too hard.
She was here. Warm under his hands. Breathing against his neck. Real.
He pressed his face into her hair. "Baby," he breathed, and his voice broke on the word. "I've got you."
Her fingers curled into his tactical vest, gripping hard enough that he felt it through the Kevlar. She pressed her face against his neck. Her lips brushed the skin just above his collar, and he felt her pulse there, racing as fast as his own.
"You found me." The words came out broken. Shaking.
Ghost closed his eyes and pulled her tighter. He pressed his forehead to hers, their breath mixing in the space between them. "I will always find you."
Gunfire cracked from the hallway, sharp reports echoing off concrete.
Ghost twisted, pulling Rachel down with him as he dropped behind cover. His arm came up to shield her, rifle snapping into position in his other hand.
Across the room, Carver jerked backward. The impact slammed him into the wall. Blood burst across his shoulder in a dark spray. His shout cut off as the hit drove air from his lungs.
"Son of a bitch—" He gasped, hand flying to the wound.
Ghost's eyes tracked the doorway. The first shooter stepped through. Ghost fired. The round hit center mass. The man dropped mid-stride, body crumpling before it reached the floor.
A second figure appeared, weapon coming up. Ghost didn't hesitate. Single shot. The man's head snapped back. He went down.
Silence rushed back in. Ghost's ears rang from the gunfire. Cordite burned in his nose and throat.
