Her hand slid to her cargo pocket, curling around her phone. She drew in a slow breath. Then she moved, low and quick, every step calculated.
Gravel shifted under her boot, sharp, loud in the silence. She froze. Heart slamming against her ribs. Waited. No movement. No reaction. Just silence. Just the quiet hum of betrayal behind worn stone.
She eased forward again, sliding along the clay wall, her back to rough texture, eyes scanning. At the edge of the next building, she crouched. Reached for the gate.
It creaked, loud and sharp. Her stomach twisted as she eased it open inch by inch, slipped through, then dropped low beside the back wall of the compound.
Her knees hit dirt. Camera at her hip. Phone in hand. She pressed record. Inside, voices snapped through the crack in the wall, low, fast, dangerous.
“We gave you the drop point. You were supposed to move last week—”
“We needed confirmation. No risk until we know who’s watching.”
Rachel’s arm trembled with the strain. She shifted slowly, just enough to get closer. Her heart pounded louder than the voices now. Every instinct told her to run, but she didn’t. Not this time.
“You’ll get the rest of the shipment next week. Five crates. M4s, suppressors, comms—clean. No serials.”
The words carved through her like a blade. Her hand tightened around the phone.
Inside, the conversation kept going. “We need confirmation on the patrol routes. We lost two men last time.”
“You’ll have it by morning. We’ve got access to the mission logs—training rotations, convoy timings, even drone flight paths. You’ll know when to move.”
Rachel’s breath hitched. Her stomach turned. This wasn’t a simple arms deal, it was war. American soldiers, trading plans, positions, maps, for cash and silence. Treason. Real. Coordinated. And happening right here. And Ghost had no idea.
The phone kept recording. She stayed low, sweat slicking her palms, every inch of her body taut with adrenaline. The voices inside stayed calm. Controlled. Like this was business as usual.
“And your people?”
“Will be nowhere near the area. You’ll have a clean window—three hours, no eyes, no air support.”
Rachel closed her eyes for one slow breath. Just long enough to brace herself. Because what she was hearing, it wasn’t suspicion anymore. It was confirmation. And it was worse than she thought.
“What was that?” one of the Americans asked, sharp and immediate.
Rachel dropped lower. Spine pressed to crumbling stone. Breath locked in her throat.
“I thought I saw—”
Another voice cut in, cool and dismissive. “It’s nothing. We’re clear.”
Still, she didn’t move. Not a twitch. Not even a breath too loud. She crouched in the dirt, heart hammering, legs screaming from holding still. Sweat pooled between her shoulder blades. Her fingers ached from how tight she gripped the phone.
Minutes passed like hours. Then a door shut. A car engine started. Another followed. Voices vanished beneath the rumble of retreating wheels, swallowed by distance and darkness.
Only when the night returned to silence did she finally move. She slid back through the gate, slow and low. Each step measured, every movement silent. No room for mistakes. Breath controlled.She made it across the path, into shadow. Back to cover. Only then did her legs give.
She dropped against the wall, trembling. Every nerve raw. Her shirt clung to her back, soaked through. Her hands were slick and shaking as she checked the phone.
The audio file was there. Treason captured in full. She had it. Proof. Real, undeniable, career-ending proof. And now? Now she was the one holding it.
The weight of it hit harder than she expected. This wasn’t just about journalism anymore. Not about exposure or recognition. This was survival. She’d stepped out of the role of observer. And into something else. The minute she hit record, she’d crossed the line. Now she had to decide who she could trust to help her survive what came next.
Rachel gripped the phone hard, pressed her other hand to her mouth, and tried to slow her breathing. She'd just made herself a target. And anyone she told would become one too.
20
Rachel stepped inside her barracks and stopped breathing. What she'd captured, what she now carried, was bigger and more dangerous than she'd let herself think about in the moment.
