“Fuck, I love you so much.”
Arlo chuckles. “I love you more than you’ll ever know, butterfly.”
He slowly parks on the side of the road, turning the engine off. He takes the guns off my lap, then opens the door. Within seconds, he’s by the passenger’s side, opening mine, unbuckling my belt, and helping me out of the vehicle.
The harsh, crisp air hits my face, sending chills down my body. Whether it’s from the nerves or the coldness, I don’t know. My eyes roam around, taking in and soaking in the surroundings.
We’re the only ones here, because Keith and Raven were dropped off so they wouldn’t be exposed. Arlo closes the door,then steps next to me. A short walk away from us is a massive house, and it resembles a mini palace. All the lights are turned on, lighting the place up like Las Vegas.
The gate is quite tall, I’d say about fifteen feet, and very wide, going around the entire property. From the drawings Arlo found, there’s a back gate, too, though much smaller and easier to get into.
One car parks behind us, followed by a black mini-truck. From the car, Kaya, Aria, Lucas, and Niko emerge, all looking serious. Brian walks to the trunk, shuffling through it and pulling out a big duffle bag, then setting it on the ground.
“Here’s all the weapons,” Brian says, opening the duffle bag. “Take your pick.”
“Oh, I like this one.” Kaya’s the first one to grab something from the inside, pulling out and revealing two very sharp knives that resemble daggers. They’re long, pointy, and look like the smallest contact to flesh would be able to leave a long-lasting scar.
Aria whisks out two guns, the first ones that she touched, then makes sure they’re good to be used. Arlo’s eyes follow her every movement, trying to scope out her true feelings.
She’s attending therapy regularly but acts like nothing happened. Arlo’s worried about the fact she’s adamant on being a part of this, despite having school, her volleyball practice and games, and a social life girls her age tend to have. And, especially, the fact that she acts like her suicide attempt was no big deal.
My attention shifts to the men leaving the trunk. All are dressed in pitch-black, matching clothes, with masks on their faces. I can’t tell who is who, which is probably a good thing.
“Alright,” Arlo starts talking while the rest of the people are grabbing their weapons. Once they’re done, Brian takes the duffle bag and shoves it back in the trunk of the car. “Keith left the back gate open for us. Raven’s on the roof, and when I give the signal, he’ll shoot everyone on the outside. However, we don’t know theexact number of people on the inside. Be prepared for the worst.”
“Do we have an estimate?” Lucas asks, glancing at the house.
“Roughly about twenty to thirty people. Wood’s is very paranoid I’ll come and kill him, so he’s probably heavily guarded at all times.”
“His paranoia is correct, though,” Aria mutters, then straightens up. “Alright. I’m with Kaya and Brian.”
Arlo nods. “Blair’s with me. Jewel, step forward.”
One of the masked people — the cutest and shortest one — steps forward.
“You’re with Cove. You two are equally insane, so this should be fine. The rest split into two. One to attack, the other to defend if needed.”
It takes these people less than two minutes to take formation. Arlo’s looking at each person, his eyes showing no emotion. Seeing him go from sweet and tender to the future boss of an illegal assassination organization is… well, an experience, to say the least.
“Good,” Arlo says, just as his phone buzzes. He doesn’t take it out of his pocket, nor does he look away for a moment. Instead, he lifts his chin. “Go.”
Everyone starts running toward the back gate, their figures disappearing into the distance while Arlo and I remain standing by the vehicles. The air blows the small hairs that fell out of my braids out of my face, my eyes closing for a moment.
“Let’s go, butterfly. Let’s not keep Woods waiting.”
The moment we approach the gate, we’re met with chaos. Bullets flying left and right, bodies dropping every moment. Arlo’sbody is shielding me from the direct line of fire, my hand tightly wrapped around the gun.
“Stay close to me, butterfly,” he instructs, his voice firm.
He lets go of my other hand, and I take a deep intake of breath. I can’t keep my eyes off him as he rushes forward into the house.
My feet are carrying me as fast as possible, trying to keep up with his long stride. I’m frozen in the spot, and the way he moves has me falling in love with him all over again.
He’s holding a gun in each hand, looking straight ahead but shooting left and right. He hits every man that he spots, some from closer range. Blood splatters all over his dark clothes, some drops landing on his face and hair, the white strands slowly getting the dark, crimson tint.
My heart is beating rapidly in my chest as I stare in awe.
Oh, so this is why they call him the Ghost.
