killshot | simon riley ✓

• Chapter 13 •

Her cold stare usually made men back down, but it didn't seem to work on him in the slightest, holding her gaze with no problem.

„That whole scene back in the compound area, that was personal," Ghost pointed it out, mirroring her position by crossing his arms in front of his vested chest. Her eyes briefly wandered to his biceps, ignoring the way he just became two times more menacing. „You'll shoot him in the head, I can't let that happen."

Rora clenched her jaw, a muscle tensing alongside her defined jaw. He had seen this look on her before: when he scolded her for being crazy and running out to a field full of armed men with only an RPG on her shoulder, but this time he knew her motives better.

It was clearly personal, her frustration mirroring the other men around them, and while they could put aside their anger and concentrate on the task, her fiery temper couldn't let things slide that easily.

„Not even in the knee?" Rora tried, her frustration with Ghost growing, angry at herself for being such an open book. Or he was just good at reading people. Either way, it was annoying.

„No."

„C'mon, one knee cap. He has two for a reason," she pleaded, getting more desperate by the minute. She stood by the fact that there was no man she would kneel before, but she was getting ready to plead on her knees for him if it meant that she could do whatever she wanted.

„Wells," his tone now came off as a warning. „No."

A frustrated groan left her throat, turning back around to face the scene, Ghost's presence almost burning her left side as he stood beside her. Giving him one more look that clearly said please, he threw a cold side-glance at her way, his attention turning back to the interrogation in front of him.

She would've argued with him, but right now the headache made her shut up for once, leaning her hip against the truck next to her, her arms staying crossed in front of her so she wouldn't slap anyone across the face.

„Alright, we are live, folks," Graves announced, walking in front of Hassan, Alejandro standing close behind him with his gun in his hands.

„Do you speak Arabic?" Hassan looked up to the Shadow Commander in front of him.

„No."

„Farsi?" he tried again, his voice surprisingly calm despite the situation.

„No," Graves slid his thumb under his vest, not looking bothered at all.

„Course not," Hassan's lips pulled into the slightest smirk, it disappearing quickly as he let his eyes wander to the rest of the group. „Then I'll speak your bastardized medieval English because you are all uneducated street dogs."

Rora turned her head to look at Ghost, her eyes pleadingly sending him please, not even a finger? He felt her gaze on him, eyes meeting, his gaze sending her a clear don't even think about it.

Rolling her eyes, she turned her attention back.

„Ahh, see..." Graves groaned, kicking his feet against the dried-up ground. „We're getting off to a bad start here, Hassan."

„You are talking to a Quds Force officer," Hassan stood his ground, his gaze stone cold as he looked at the man standing in front of him.

„You're the commander of a foreign terror organization," Graves enunciated, slowly showing signs of losing his patience.

Thank God Ghost didn't let her near Hassan, she would've kicked a tooth out at this point.

„I can say the same to you," he implied, sending the American a pointed look.