DECODE ~ GHOST [Editing]

09| Prey

AN: I removed the smut, sorry guys.

There are moments when you wish the earth would split beneath your feet and pull you into nothingness—a fiery, all-consuming void that swallows everything you've ever been. Moments where existence itself feels like a punishment, and erasure seems like mercy. And standing here, face-to-face with Philip Graves, was one of those moments.

The tension in the air was suffocating, thick with accusations and ghosts of words unsaid. Philip's hand slammed against the gate, blocking my escape. His body loomed over mine, every inch of him radiating anger barely held in check. His eyes, cold and sharp, bore into me like he was trying to carve the truth from my soul.

"What were you thinking?" he hissed, his voice low and venomous. "You and Ghost? Of all people, Spencer."

My breath hitched, chest tightening under the weight of his words. His proximity was suffocating, and I wanted to disappear. But instead, I laughed—a bitter, hollow sound that tasted like ashes on my tongue. "You don't get to ask me that," I snapped, my voice trembling with a mixture of rage and heartbreak.

"You're the one thing I have left—" His hands gripped my arms tightly, his fingers digging into my skin like he could hold me together and tear me apart all at once. "Is he the reason you ended our engagement?" His voice cracked, barely masking the anguish beneath the anger.

I froze, my mind racing but unable to form the words. "No," I whispered, but the denial sounded weak, even to me.

"Don't lie to me." His grip tightened, and I could feel the bruises already forming. "I know there's something between you and him. Is that why? Is he why you left me?"

The accusation hit like a bullet, sharp and precise, tearing through whatever fragile connection we still had. I stared at him, my lips trembling, but no sound came. How could I explain that this wasn't about Ghost—or anyone else? It was about us. About the cracks in our foundation that had been growing long before I walked away.

"You're not even going to deny it," he scoffed, his voice dripping with disbelief and contempt. "I thought I knew you, Spencer. I thought—" His voice faltered, and for a moment, the anger slipped, leaving something raw and wounded in its place. "I thought you loved me."

"I did," I whispered, my voice breaking.

"Did?" His tone was venomous now, the word slicing through me. "So it's true. You don't love me anymore."

I flinched, my chest tightening at the broken edge in his voice. "It's not that simple, Philip—"

"Don't give me that bullshit!" he snapped, cutting me off. "You don't just walk away from someone you love! You fightfor it. You fight for us!"

"I did fight!" I shouted, the words ripping from my throat. "I fought every damn day to keep us together, but you weren't there anymore! You weren't you anymore!"

His jaw clenched, and I saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes before it was swallowed by bitterness. "And instead of helping me, you ran," he said, his voice trembling with accusation. "You chose the easy way out."

"Easy?" I laughed, the sound sharp and jagged. "You think leaving you was easy? You think walking away from the person I love didn't kill me? Every step I took felt like tearing my heart out, but you left me first, Philip! You shut me out, and I—" My voice cracked, tears threatening to spill. "I couldn't keep waiting for someone who was already gone."

Silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating. His hands dropped from my arms, and I stumbled back, clutching the tender spots where his grip had burned into my skin.