They called her Robin, a codename forged in fire, in survival, in resistance. Abducted as a child and used by the enemy that tore her world apart, Y/N L/N grew into a soldier who turned her trauma into strength. Years later, she's recruited by Capta...
The wind howled like a banshee around you, deafening above the roar of the helicopter blades. Every muscle in your arms screamed as you clung to the rope ladder, suspended in midair hundreds of feet above the compound.
But none of that compared to the weight around your waist.
Voron.
His arms had locked around you like a vice, his chest pressed to your back as he climbed you like a lifeline. His breath was hot against your ear, ragged and gleeful.
"We fall together, little bird."
You thrashed, trying to kick him off, your legs scrambling. The ladder swayed wildly with your movements. Below, the ground was a blur of grey and smoke.
Above, you heard the shouts.
"Hold on!" "Robin! Kick him off!" "Price, she's not gonna make it!"
Soap and Price leaned over the open side of the helicopter, arms outstretched. But no matter how they strained, they couldn't get a grip on you. Not with Voron clinging like a parasite.
"Shake him, Y/N!" Gaz shouted from the cabin. "You have to shake him loose!"
You gritted your teeth and swung your lower body as hard as you could. It only made the bastard tighten his grip, his nails digging into your ribs.
Too heavy.
Too close.
Then, a whisper cut through the chaos.
"Hold on..."
You turned your head, Ghost.
He was dragging himself across the helicopter floor, blood dripping from his side, one hand on the floor, the other gripping his sidearm.
He reached the edge and leaned over, eyes locking with yours.
Gun raised.
"Ghost!" Soap barked. "What the hell are you doing?!"
But Ghost didn't answer.
His eyes were locked on yours, unflinching. Focused. Not on Voron.
On you.
Your breath caught.
You gave him a single, small nod, eyes brimming, the cold wind burning your cheeks.
You didn't speak. You didn't need to.
You were telling him: It's okay.
And Ghost...
Ghost promised: Not today.
Bang.
The shot rang out like thunder.
For a second, everything was still.
Then the weight shifted.
Your body jerked as Voron's grip loosened. You opened your eyes.
He was falling.
Arms slack.
A bullet in his skull.
His body tumbled in the wind like a broken puppet.
He was dead.
Finally.
You stared in disbelief.
Relief, sick and sweet, began to bloom in your chest.
Beep-Beep-beep-beep...
Your eyes dropped. Your heart stopped. A blinking red light. Small and Round. Strapped to your lower leg.
A bomb.
Your mouth opened in a silent gasp. You looked up at the team at Ghost.
Beep-beep-beep.
"Y/N!" Gaz screamed. "There's something on your leg!"
"Shit, SHIT!" Soap backed away. "She's rigged, he fucking planted it on her!"
Your hands started to shake. You looked up at Ghost. He stared at you. And you slowly, heartbreakingly let go.
But you didn't fall.
Because in the next heartbeat, Ghost was already there.
He dove.
One hand caught the ladder The other caught you. You slammed into his chest as he locked his arms around your waist, yanking you upward just as the ladder jolted under both your weight.
"Hold on to me!" he shouted, voice hoarse.
You obeyed.
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, clinging tight as his hand gripped the ladder above.
The beeping grew faster.
Faster.
"Don't move," Ghost growled.
He looked down saw the blinking charge. His hand slid down your leg, fingers finding the small, round device.
Three seconds.
Two.
Click.
Ghost ripped it off your boot.
With a grunt, he threw it into the open sky.
BOOM.
The shockwave hit seconds later, shaking the helicopter violently. You and Ghost were slammed against the ladder as the chopper rocked. Alarms blared inside. Price screamed orders over the chaos.
But you were alive.
Both of you were alive.
You clung to Ghost, shaking, your fingers buried in the back of his tactical vest. He looked at you then, just for a second.
"I've got you," he said.
"I know," you whispered.
When they finally hauled you both up into the bird, the team was waiting. Price pulled you in first. Ghost was lifted next barely conscious.
You collapsed beside each other on the floor, panting, bleeding, trembling. Price and Soap shouted updates into comms as the chopper banked hard away from the compound, racing toward safety.
You turned your head, face inches from Ghost's. He was still holding your wrist. You didn't pull away. He rasped your name, your real nam and you smiled for the first time in what felt like years.
Voron was dead.
And for the first time since you were eight, you were free.
~~~
TBC
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