DECODE ~ GHOST [Editing]

07| Infiltration

Cartel Stronghold, Las Almas

The air was thick with heat, the kind that made everything feel sticky and suffocating. Mexico was alive in a way that felt dangerous, and the oppressive sun bore down on us, its heat baking the dust that clung to my skin. My breath came in short bursts, sharp and shallow, the stifling heat making it hard to focus on anything other than the sweat rolling down my back. The world around us felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to break, something to snap. And in that moment, I couldn't tell if it was the world or me that was about to give.

A spider crawled across my foot, its tiny legs barely registering against my boot. Normally, I would've kicked it away without a second thought, but today... today it didn't even faze me. It was small, insignificant, just like I felt right then. I was standing in the middle of an old building, the broken structure casting long, harsh shadows. Nearby, guards patrolled the driveway of the Drug Lord's mansion, and the air buzzed with the low murmur of conversation. Nothing was calm. Everything was on edge.

I kept my gaze fixed ahead, trying to ignore the fact that my thoughts were spiraling, spinning out of control. All I could think about was what came next. The mission. The plan. Alejandro was laying it out, but I couldn't hear him over the rampant buzz of my own mind.

"Fury, you'll be going in after Soap," he said, his tone calm and direct. "You're there for immediate reinforcement, so just mill around outside with the other guests. Keep your eyes and ears open for any valuable intel. If we can use it, note it."

I nodded, barely processing the words. My mind was still caught on the weight of the moment, the weight of him. Ghost. He was still there, standing just behind me, an invisible weight pressing down on me. I shifted uneasily, the tension between us palpable, thick like the air we were breathing.

"And who's my backup?" I managed, my voice rougher than I intended, the words almost mechanical as I fought to keep the conversation grounded.

Graves cleared his throat beside me, his hand casually brushing my elbow as he spoke. The warmth of his touch lingered, sending an unwanted spark up my arm. "That would be Ghost, sweetheart." He looked at me with a knowing smile, clearly aware of how much his touch unsettled me, but in a way that made me want to pull away and yet, stay. "He'll be watching over you."

I barely registered his words. I didn't look at him. I couldn't. All I could think about was the man beside me, the one whose presence made my skin prickle, whose silence made my pulse quicken. Ghost. The man who was constantly under my skin in a way I didn't want, and yet couldn't shake. The heat that radiated from him wasn't just from the weather. It was from the way he stood close, the way he moved, and the way he looked at me when he thought no one was paying attention. His heavy gaze was always there, even when he wasn't speaking. I didn't need to look at him to know he was watching, listening, waiting.

"Well, let's get this show on the road," Soap said, his voice carrying a casual confidence that was impossible to ignore. The familiar thick Scottish accent cut through the air, his usual enthusiasm returning after his nap. The mission was about to start, but the tension in the air felt like it was building to something more, something dangerous.

Besides me, Graves spoke, "You need to take off the knife, Spence,"

With a huff, I fumbled with the harness on my knife, fingers slipping as I tried to remove it. But the straps never cooperated, especially when you were pressed for time. My hands shook slightly as I tugged at the harness, frustration bubbling under the surface. The damn thing wouldn't come loose. Every tug only made it worse.