DECODE ~ GHOST [Editing]

05| Acceptance

My heart pounded in my chest, the sound drumming in my ears as I sprinted down the hill. The air felt thick with the anticipation of death, the stench of it looming around us. We had walked straight into an ambush—a carefully planned trap to wipe us out and let Hassan slip through our fingers, free to continue his reign of terror.

I ran, blindly hoping the rest of the team was behind me. I didn't dare look back. My focus was locked on the trees blurring past, tall and menacing, as I tore through the dense woodland, desperate for some escape. Stopping wasn't an option. If I slowed down, if I hesitated, the bullets from the Mexican army would find me. I couldn't afford to die out here, even if my only remaining family—two half-brothers who barely knew I existed—wouldn't give a damn if I made it home or not.

This was so completely fucked.

We didn't have Hassan. He hadn't even been there. Now, we had no idea where he was. He could be anywhere—Mexico, the US, halfway across the damn globe by now. Every second we wasted, he was a step ahead, slipping further from our grasp. And we couldn't let that happen.

My boots slid on a muddy slope, the ground unstable beneath me as I lost control. I tumbled down the slick earth until I crashed onto a narrow path that hugged the cliffside, with nothing but a sheer drop into the raging river below. My breath hitched. The edge loomed before me, the height enough to make my stomach churn with vertigo.

I forced myself to stop, planting my feet hard against the ground to avoid toppling over into the abyss. The mere sight of the drop was enough to send a wave of nausea through me. My pulse raced, and it felt like the earth was pulling me toward the void. The cliff seemed to yawn open, daring me to fall directly into its jaws.

"Keep moving," Alejandro's voice broke through the fog of fear. Commanding and resilient whilst he shoved me forward, his hand firm against my back. But ahead of us was a wall of rock, towering and unscalable. We were trapped.

The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. We'd hit a dead end.

Ghost's voice, low and angry, cut through the tension. "You led us to a fucking dead end?" His words carried the weight of accusation, and panic started to creep into my veins.

Alejandro laughed, a dark, humorless sound. "There's only one way from here." He paused, eyes gleaming with grim satisfaction. "Down."

I froze, my wide eyes meeting Ghost's. His expression was calm, infuriatingly so. He didn't flinch.

"Ladies first," he offered, his voice cold, almost taunting.

I shook my head violently. "Age before beauty," I shot back, but my voice wavered. There was no way in hell I was jumping off that cliff. My fear of heights was crippling, and the drop was more than I could handle. My throat tightened with dread. "I'm not going."

Ghost's gaze hardened, and he grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. "If you don't go, you'll die," he said, his tone sharp as steel. "And then the death of your team would be for nothing."

His words hit hard. I wanted to argue, but he was right. If I stayed here, I'd die for nothing, just another body in the dirt. The Mexican army wouldn't take prisoners. They'd execute us on sight. If I died now, it would be an insult to my team—Milk, Grass, Dumb and Dumber. I couldn't let that happen. Not without revenge. Not without taking Kristof Volkov down first.

"Fuck this," I breathed, backing up a few paces.

Ghost locked eyes with me. "I'll be right behind you," he promised, his voice steady.

Alejandro and Soap had already jumped. They'd made it, and I could see them below, waiting for us. My legs felt like lead as I turned back to Ghost, his narrowed eyes filled with barely concealed impatience, like he wanted to throw me off the edge himself.