killshot | simon riley ✓

• Chapter 26 •

„If I survive this, I'll fucking slit your throat, MacTavish!"

„I'm just trying to help, lass!" said Sergeant held his hands up in the air in a defensive motion, not seeking her wrath. Because by the way she looked at him, he was a hundred percent sure that she would stick to her words.

She had to bite down on her lower lip to hold in a cry as he helped her to sit on a desk, the tension in her thigh not really lessening. They were in the back corner of Alejandro's backup hideout, where Ghost took them. When they found Rodolfo here, she wanted to jump in his neck and hug the life out of him, she was so happy to see a familiar face. But instead of a warm welcome, they had to make do with a fistbump, since she needed both men to keep her on her feet at this point.

And now, it was time to address her wound, and this was the part she wanted to skip forward.

Soap barely touched her leg, she hissed at him, trying to get away from his prying hands.

„Wellsy, I can't help you like this," he sighed, putting his hand on his hip as he looked at her. She almost smiled at the sight, he looked like a disappointed father, standing there like that. „We should get Ghost."

„No fucking way," she immediately shut him off, shaking her head so violently that a few strands of hair flew by her eyes. „He would kill me himself if I don't stay put."

„That's the point," he flashed her a mischievous smile, already turning around and heading back to the main area.

„Get back here, Kilt Boy!" she shouted after him, but she didn't even get a glance back. „Fuckin' quitter."

While she waited, seated on a not-so-comfortable metal desk, she took the chance to look around. It was fairly dark in the room she was in, with only a lone lamp on the desk giving some dim lighting. But it was enough to take one look at her thigh and know it was way too fucked up to do it up by herself.

It was embarrassing, but when it came to wounds, she was still a whiny baby about most of them. Especially about burnt wounds and bullet wounds, the rest she could deal with. But when she saw her two mates approaching, her self-respect returned, forcing her signature smirk on her lips and trying to block out the pain.

„Hey, Ghost, I almost forgot!" she leaned forward a little, reaching into the pocket on the side of her leg, pulling out a knife. It was the very knife she got from a Shadow, with the black and white marble handle. „I got you something."

As they stepped into the room, both of the men looked at her with curiosity, noticing the knife held in her hand. Soap's eyes flicked back to Rora's face with panic. This was it, he thought, she was really going to slit his throat. And by her sadistic smile, she knew exactly what effect she had on him.

„Another headache, a'ight?" Ghost gruffed out, crossing his arms in front of his chest. For a moment, his eyes wandered to her leg, seeing that her pants were drenched in blood, fresh and dried. And she looked pale. He wondered if she had any other injuries.

She motioned him to come closer, not really wanting to get off the table, it would be embarrassing to just collapse in front of them. With hesitant steps, he stepped closer to her, only leaving a foot distance between them, and the sudden close proximity caused her breath to hitch in her throat. She tilted her head back a little, looking up at his face, his eyes barely visible because of the dark shadows. She was mad at the shadows for taking away his eyes from her.

Rora held out her hand, waiting for him to place his in hers. But by the confused look he gave her, it was obvious he didn't get it, so she let out a sigh and reached forward, grabbing his wrist and turning his palm upwards.