Chapter 21 Ghost Unleashed
Chapter twenty-one
Ghost Unleashed
Mikhail
The gunshot was blank. The blood was fake. The entire execution was theater, and Pavel's acting was surprisingly convincing.
What wasn't fake was the twenty minutes of torture beforehand—Harrison wanted authentic screams for his video. My ribs are cracked, possibly broken. My left eye is swollen shut. But I'm alive, which is more than Mariana surely believes.
They've had me in this cell for eighteen hours now, thinking I'm broken. Thinking the chains and guards are enough to hold me.
They're wrong.
The guard on night shift is young, maybe twenty-two. He keeps checking his phone, distracted by whatever drama is unfolding in his personal life. When he steps close to slide the food tray through the slot, I move.
The chains were never as secure as they looked—I've been working on the pin for hours, using techniques learned in black ops that don't officially exist. My hand slips free, grabs his wrist, pulls him against the bars. He's unconscious before he can scream.
Keys. Phone. Weapon. Everything I need.
I text Alexei from the guard's phone:
Package ready for pickup. Location follows.
His response is immediate: 30 minutes. Full team.
Twenty minutes to find Mariana and get her ready to move. Twenty minutes to navigate a facility I've only seen pieces of. Twenty minutes before Harrison realizes he has a ghost on his heels.
The hallways are industrial, utilitarian. This isn't a government facility—I count cameras, memorize guard patterns, move like the shadow I trained to be.
"—said she's been crying for hours," a voice carries from around the corner. "Keeps talking to the baby about its dead father."
"Harrison's sick, man. Making her watch that on video."
"Yeah, but did you see the part where Ghost got shot? Looked real as fuck."
They're talking about my execution. About Mariana's grief. The rage that floods through me is arctic, absolute.
The guards never see me coming.
I leave them breathing but unconscious—Mariana wouldn't want unnecessary deaths, even now. And by the time they wake up it will be too late for them to do anything against me. Their radios and access cards go with me.
The medical wing is two floors up according to the fire evacuation map. She's there, has to be. Harrison would keep her where she could be monitored, where the baby could be watched.
The thought drives me forward through two more checkpoints. Each guard falls silently, professionally. This is what I am beneath the husband, beneath the man who makes breakfast—I'm a weapon, and tonight I'm aimed at anyone between me and my family.
The medical wing smells like antiseptic and despair. Through a window in the door, I see her.
She's curled on a hospital bed, one hand on her stomach, monitors tracking two heartbeats. She's pale, obviously sedated, but alive. The baby's alive.
Our baby.
One guard outside her door. He's reading something on his phone, completely unaware of my presence. Sloppy. This will be easy—
"Going somewhere, Ghost?"
I freeze. Harrison's voice, behind me. I turn slowly to find him flanked by six guards, all with weapons drawn.
"Did you really think we didn't know you'd escaped?" He smiles coldly. "Pavel's been tracking you since you left your cell. Every unconscious guard, every stolen keycard—we watched it all."
"Then why—"
"Because I wanted you to see her one more time. Through that little window. See what you'll never have again." He nods to his men. "Take him."
I calculate odds, distances, probabilities. Six guards plus Harrison, all armed. Mariana is just twenty feet away but might as well be twenty miles. If I fight now, they'll kill me before I reach her door.
But if I don't fight, I'll never get another chance.
Through the window, I see her shift in her sleep, her hand protectively covering her stomach. Our children. Our future. So close.
I'm coming, little wolf. No matter what it takes.
I make my choice.