Chapter 14
Rachel moved low along the walls. Her boots hit the dirt without sound, her breath tight in her throat.
She wasn’t supposed to be here, not this far past the wire, not deep in the blast zone. Not with a camera strapped across her shoulder and nothing but a scarf for protection, but she’d made her choice the second she stepped onto that transport. Orders be damned.
The air thickened with smoke and the scorched bite of burning rubber. In the distance, gunfire crackled, sporadic now, not the sharp rhythm of a full firefight, but close enough that her ears stayed tuned for every snap.
The ground was littered with wreckage, twisted steel, shattered glass, and bullet casings that glinted in the haze like broken promises. The lead truck still burned, fire chewing through the metal as black smoke clawed toward the sky.
Then she saw them. Bodies of not just soldiers, but also civilians.
A woman slumped against a concrete barrier, her shawl soaked in blood. A boy, maybe ten, knelt beside her, rocking slowly, clutching her unmoving hand. Farther down the road, a teenager leaned against a crushed tire, blood trailing from a deep gash down her arm, eyes glassy and unfocused.
Rachel’s pulse kicked.
She moved on instinct. Raised her camera, hands shaking only slightly. One click. The boy’s shaking shoulders. Another. The girl’s empty stare. The world needed to see this to understand the cost.
Then she heard it. A sound, soft, broken. A groan just beyond the downed truck.
She lowered the camera fast and moved toward it, boots crunching over gravel. A body shifted near the debris, an American uniform, one arm stretched awkwardly, blood pooling beneath him.
Rachel dropped to her knees. Her scarf slid from her mouth, but she didn’t stop to fix it. “Hey, hey, stay with me,” she said, voice low and urgent.
The soldier blinked, barely. Sweat streaked his dirt-covered face. His abdomen was soaked in deep red, the fabric clinging to shredded flesh.
She tossed her camera aside, yanked her shirt hem, and tore hard. The cotton ripped with a sharp sound that barely registered over her heartbeat. She pressed the cloth into the wound with both hands. “Come on,” she whispered. “Not today. You’re not going anywhere.”
His lips moved, a sound half-formed and lost before it reached her. She leaned in, adjusting her grip, her whole body vibrating from the adrenaline spiking through her.
“Direct pressure,” she muttered, remembering the lesson Frost had drilled into her after that last mission. “Keep them conscious. Keep them here.”
The soldier’s eyes fluttered, then the gunfire returned, closer than before.
Rachel ducked instinctively, then threw herself over the soldier, arms braced, her body covering his. Dirt exploded beside her as rounds hit too close for comfort. Her pulse roared in her ears.
Suddenly, whit hot pain tore through her side, slicing just under her vest. She cried out, the sound ripped from her throat before she could choke it down. Shrapnel. She clenched her jaw, pressed harder against the injured man.
A body slammed into her from behind. Arms wrapped around her with brutal precision, covering her fully and pressing her further into the soldier she was covering.
His voice came rough against her ear. "Stay down."
Ghost.
Then quieter, barely audible over the gunfire: "I've got you, baby."
Rachel's breath stopped. Not from the rounds snapping overhead, but from that word. Baby. He said it low and raw like it slipped out before he could catch it.
His arms stayed locked around her even as bullets chewed into the rubble above them. His chest rose and fell hard against her back, his breath warm on her neck.
She should focus on the wounded soldier. Instead all she could feel was Ghost wrapped around her, the word baby still echoing in her head.
He shifted, one arm tightening around her waist, pulling her closer as another burst of fire ripped past. The movement pressed them together from shoulder to hip. Rachel's pulse kicked harder. She felt his breath hitch once against her neck before he got it under control.
"Are you hit?" His voice came quiet, tight with control she could hear fraying at the edges.
Pain throbbed down her side where the shrapnel had caught her, burning hot under her vest, but it didn't matter. Not compared to the soldier bleeding out ten feet away.
She twisted slightly, trying to see the wounded man. "He's hit."
Ghost lifted his head just enough to scan the area. His jaw was tight against her temple. "You're a goddamn pain in my ass, baby."
There it was again. Baby. Like he couldn't help it.
Rachel's mouth pulled despite everything. "Yeah, well... you're not exactly sunshine and rainbows."
His chest rumbled against her back, something between a laugh and a curse. Even now, in the middle of chaos, her body responded to him. The heat of him. The roughness in his voice. The way his arm stayed locked around her waist like he wasn't letting go.
The wounded soldier groaned, weaker this time.
Ghost moved fast, shifting beside her, his hands replacing hers on the makeshift bandage. Blood welled through his fingers. "I need two men over here now!" His voice cut through the chaos. "Critical casualty!"
Two soldiers sprinted over. One cracked open a med kit. The other crouched to help lift.
Rachel moved back to give them space, then realized her shirt was gone beneath her vest, she'd torn it off to use as a bandage. Her skin was streaked with dirt and blood, ribs visible under the edge of her vest.
Ghost's eyes dropped, just for a second. His jaw tightened.
Ghost held her gaze, long enough that Rachel's pulse jumped again. Long enough to know he was feeling this too, whatever this was.
The team lifted the wounded soldier onto a stretcher. Ghost stepped back but his eyes stayed on Rachel.
She was still kneeling there, shirt torn, sweat cutting lines through the dirt on her face. Wrecked and steady and not backing down.
“You could’ve been killed,” Ghost said.
Her eyes flicked to his. “I wasn’t.”
He shook his head once, like that wasn’t good enough. “Don’t do that again.”
Her voice stayed quiet, “I’m not sorry.”
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 find out who."