Something flashed in his eyes; anger, fear, maybe both. Before he could respond, the medics lifted the stretcher and carried the wounded soldier away, leaving them alone in the wreckage.
Dust kicked up between them. Ghost stared at her like he didn't know what to do with her. Like every muscle in his body was wound tight trying to hold something back.
The silence stretched.
Rachel looked up at him from where she still knelt in the dirt. "Besides, you could have been killed too."
Ghost exhaled hard and dragged a hand through his hair, leaving blood streaks she could see even from here. His jaw worked like he was grinding his teeth.
"Damn it, baby," he muttered, voice gone low. "Don't you get it? Just about everyone out here is trying to kill you."
Her throat went tight, he’d said it again. Not by accident this time, deliberate, rough, like the word had been building behind his teeth and finally broke free.
Her pulse kicked hard. It wasn't just the word, it was how he said it, like she already belonged to him. Like the thought of losing her actually scared him.
That should've made her push back. Should've made her remind him she could take care of herself. Instead something warm and dangerous settled in her stomach.
Ghost looked away first. Shook his head once, then turned and moved through the wreckage. His shoulders were rigid, movements controlled but tight. She watched him shift into command mode, scanning the scene with sharp, focused sweeps.
But tension was evident in every line of his body. She could see him cataloging details, his expression going harder with each pass.
He stopped at the burned-out lead truck, studying the blast pattern. His jaw clenched.
Rachel pushed herself to her feet, ignoring the burn in her side. Something was wrong. Ghost's hands tightened on his rifle, the way his eyes kept moving over the wreckage like he was reading something she couldn't see.
"What is it?" she asked.
Ghost didn't look at her. "This wasn't random."
The words landed heavy, making her stomach drop.
"Someone set this up," he continued, voice flat and cold. "Someone who knew our route. Our timing." He turned to look at her then, and the expression on his face made her chest tighten. "This is the same pattern as Bear's ambush."
Rachel's pulse jumped for a different reason now. "You think someone on the inside—"
"I know someone on the inside is feeding intel." His eyes were hard as steel. "And I'm going to findout who."
15
The team converged at the Humvees, boots hitting the dirt, dust rising with every step. Rachel's legs felt heavy, muscles still twitching with leftover adrenaline from the firefight.
She moved to follow, but Ghost was already beside her. His hand landed at the small of her back, just beneath the edge of her vest. The feeling warm and solid.
His thumb brushed once against the damp fabric of her shirt. The touch was light, almost casual, but it shot straight through her.
Rachel's spine straightened. Something about that hand steadied her, grounded her when everything else still felt like chaos.
They walked together toward the lead Humvee. Nobody said anything, but Rachel caught the looks. Quick glances from Predator and Frost. Nothing overt, just acknowledgment.
Brick was already behind the wheel, fingers tapping the steering wheel in some rhythm only he could hear. Torch moved toward the backseat, but Ghost caught his eye.
"Take the command seat," Ghost said.
Torch paused. His eyebrow lifted slightly. His gaze flicked from Ghost to Rachel, then back. He nodded once and climbed in front.
Ghost opened the back door. Rachel slid inside, every movement stiff. Her vest caught the edge of the shrapnel wound on her side and she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth.
She settled against the seat, breathing shallow, one hand pressed to her thigh.
