killshot | simon riley ✓

• Chapter 12 •

UPDATE: i edited the end of this chapter cuz it made me die inside every time someone commented on it and brought me back to face this trauma. i scarred you with the cringe, and you scarred me back by you being you. so we're equal now or whatever. k bye

The picture of the cuffed Hassan Zyani never failed to make Rora Wells smile, satisfaction making her muscles relax as the truck entered Alejandro's base. Rodolfo was driving, Rora taking shotgun and another Vaquero sitting in the backseat, them following behind the truck where Ghost and Soap were guarding Hassan.

Exiting the car, the humid air almost swept her off her feet. Exhaustion was catching up with her, adrenaline not being able to keep her standing for much longer, but despite the tiredness, nothing could wipe her smile off her face. The dull, pulsating pain on the right side of her temple was almost non-existent at this point, but a bruise was guaranteed.

An AQ bashed her head with his gun when they were ambushing Hassan, knocking her to the floor. After that, a few things were a little blurry, hitting her head while falling down, too. She only caught that Ghost was retrieving one of his throwing knife from the man's throat, reaching out a hand towards her to help her stand up.

For a while, her vision went blurry randomly, the sharp light of the sun causing her eyes to squint, and sudden movement made her dizzy, but the serotonin that Hassan's cuffed form caused her was otherworldly.

„Being in a good mood, I see," Soap commented, a similar smile plastered on his face as he passed Hassan to the  Vaqueros, them taking Hassan somewhere. Rora didn't care where, she just had enough of his face.

„Haven't felt so good in ages, MacTavish," the woman beamed, her smile dimming ever so slightly when Ghost stopped beside them. „Cheer up, Lt., we got the fucker."

Her sentence only got a flat look from said lieutenant, his eyes shifting to Soap. Rora could see that he was fighting for his life to not let the smile show.

„After the sun sets, we're taking Hassan to interrogate him," Ghost informed them, both of them nodding their head along.

„Rog'," Soap flashed him a smile, his crystal clear eyes meeting her icy ones. „We have a couple of hours until then."

„We do," Rora tried to mirror his enthusiasm, but watching as Ghost walked away, towards the building where she could never find him again, her mind and heart went to war again. But this time, her heart came out as the winner. „Uhm, I'll see you in a bit."

His mouth opened to say something, but Rora was quick to follow after Ghost. And by seeing how far he has gone in such a short amount of time, she almost had to jog to have a chance in catching up with him before he entered the building.

His much longer legs and lengthy strides almost made it impossible to reach him, his hand already pulling open the door leading inside, while Rora was still several feet behind.

She reckoned that running up to a man that was always on high alert wasn't the best move, so she decided to announce herself was the best policy. And if she would capture his attention, it was less likely for him to just slam the door in her face.

„Ghost!" Rora called out, his tall frame haltering in his steps, his head snapping towards her. She jogged the remaining distance between them, her cheeks heating up from both the burning sun above them and the way he proceeded to hold the door open for her, him waiting with a slightly more relaxed stance. „Thank you for not slamming the door in my face."

„You're welcome," he grumbled, stepping away to let her in. „Is there a problem?"

Getting distracted by the new environment, her attention was fixed on the multiple pictures hung on the wall of the hall, all of them representing the Los Vaqueros on different missions. The weight of his heavy gaze finally was enough to snap her out of it.