The Masks in Your Life (Ghost x Reader)

t w e l v e

You heard Ghost's cargos rustle as he kneeled down in front of you, gently cupping your jaw to tilt your head up. He placed the folder next to your trembling frame.

"Look at me, angel."

His voice was like warm honey, soft and comforting in a way that gave you the strength to meet his gaze. Tenderly, he wiped your cheeks with his gloved thumb, the material soaking up the tears.

Seeing you like this, eyes glassy and fluttering, broke something in him. He held onto the bed with his free hand, gripping the sheets to keep himself grounded, because he couldn't afford to lose control.

Not right now, when you needed him close to you. The information inside the folder wouldn't help to make you feel better, rather the opposite.

It was embarrassing to let him see you this frail, but what could you do?

You needed him.

What could you do after seeing your entire world shatter in front of your very eyes? After being used and manipulated, discarded as if Mike was a toddler getting too old to play with puppets?

Only that he wasn't a toddler, he was a grown man who didn't play games.

"He doesn't deserve your tears", Ghost whispered so that only you could hear, "understood?"

It sounded like a command, a gentle reminder that you were better than anything Mike would ever be, and surprisingly it helped. You nodded absentmindedly, lifting your own hand to your face.

After wiping a few tears yourself, your hand founds Ghost's still resting on your jaw, and your cold fingers took his, the gloves warming your skin.

His heart skipped a beat, maybe two or three, as you held them tightly to gather the courage to speak.

"I want to see what's inside the folder", you mumbled into his hand, and he nodded, taking it and placing it in your lap.

He dropped his hands to your side and observed your face, to not miss a single hint at how you felt.

Your hands were shaking as you pulled the paper out of the cardboard, staring at the first page for what felt like an eternity.

"Ah, finally. The big secret", Mike sneered from behind you.

"Ignore him", Ghost said before you could react to the snarky comment, although he himself tensed up because it became harder to not bash Mike's skull in with his boot.

You swallowed a lump in your throat threatening to come out as a loud sob.

The first page was nothing more than general information about Mike, his full name, birth date, place of birth and education, which wasn't news to you. At least he didn't lie about that, but that was barely a solace.

Bracing yourself for what would await you, you turned the page around to see the next one.

Information about a gang that was local to the closest bigger city, brutal people who started out very small but quickly grew in numbers and started widening their operations in the last years.

Some words were blacked out, but what you got from it was that they started dealing with weed, before they turned to meth and then cocaine, now meddling with Mexican cartels.

You recognised some of the associates as the most notorious cartels known to the public eye, and your breath hitched when you read the name the head of the gang went by.

Michelangelo.

Your fingertip rested under the name, and it only took you a few seconds to put two and two together. Another shock, on another shock, on another – piling up like snow, freezing the blood in your veins.