DECODE ~ GHOST [Editing]

05| Acceptance

I barely had time to think. Soldiers were closing in, their guns trained on us, ready to tear us apart. Without warning, Ghost grabbed me, lifting me effortlessly. His arm tucked under me, securing my weight against his chest. His voice rumbled near my ear, calm yet commanding. "Don't let go."

Before I could respond, we were hurtling through the air. The ground vanished beneath us as Ghost launched us both into the void.

Time seemed to slow. The wind whipped past us, pulling at my clothes, my hair snapping against my face. My arms clung to Ghost, my fingers digging into the fabric of his gear, feeling the solid strength of his body as we plummeted. My heart hammered wildly, a scream caught in my throat. His muscles tensed as he held me tight, his voice lost to the roar of the wind and the rush of blood in my ears.

We hit the water hard. The icy cold swallowed us, a violent shock that ripped the breath from my lungs. My world went dark as the current sucked us down, its grip strong and unyielding. The cold bit into my skin, the water deafening as it roared around me. I forced my eyes open, trying to make sense of the swirling chaos. Alejandro and Soap were already at the surface, but I was stuck. The current was too strong, pulling me deeper.

My lungs screamed for air. I fought, kicking, clawing at the water, trying to rise, but I couldn't break free. I was losing the battle, my body growing weaker with every passing second. The thought of giving up seeped into my mind, dark and seductive.

The icy water wrapped around me like a vice, tightening its grip as my lungs burned and my pulse thundered in my ears. Cold water shock had its claws in me, sinking deep, paralyzing my muscles as if they'd been severed from my brain's commands. Trails of bubbles escaped my lips, spiraling upward toward the shimmering surface. Somewhere ahead, Soap and Alejandro moved downstream, their figures distorted by the refracted light. They'd left me behind—or at least, that's what my mind screamed.

A gloved hand pierced the freezing blur, gripping my wrist with a ferocity that jolted me from my trance. The roughness of the pull was abrasive, yet it cut through the numbing cold like a lifeline. Ghost hauled me upwards, dragging my deadweight as if I were nothing more than a sack of stones. My body refused to cooperate until the water around me began to warm, the faint promise of the surface igniting just enough survival instinct for me to kick.

When we broke through, the first breath I sucked in was raw and desperate, filling my lungs with life I didn't realize I'd been clinging to. The sunlight was blinding, filtering through the swaying branches above and kissing my face with warmth that felt almost alien after the icy depths. For one fragile moment, it held me in its golden embrace, and I let myself believe I was safe. Then reality shattered the illusion—a bullet pierced the water near us, spraying a stinging mist across my cheek.

Alejandro's voice crackled through the chaos, urgency snapping through the comms as he called for reinforcements. The response came faint at first, muddled through the rush of the current and the rattle of gunfire, but as we pressed ourselves against a rock for cover, it sharpened.

The Mexican Army had us surrounded. My Glock felt small in my hands as I returned fire, the recoil jarring against my numbed fingers. Bodies dropped in the distance, the operators around me exchanging clipped commands, but their voices faded into static as my focus narrowed. And then it hit me.

The American accent on the comms. Calm, authoritative, and unmistakable.

"This is Shadow-One. We are available and in the area."

His voice twisted through me like a blade, sharp and invasive. Philip Graves. The name lodged itself in my throat, heavy and suffocating. My mind rebelled, dragging me back to the last time I saw him—alive and far too close. The memory surged forward, unbidden and merciless, drowning out the roar of gunfire and the cold bite of water.