𝓘𝓷 𝓶𝔂 𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 || 𝒢𝒽𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 ☽

Part 4. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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<3

The time was 7:45. We had just arrived at our destination, the jet. Peter, our driver, turned off the engine and looked back at Price through the rearview mirror.

"There you go, we are here now," Peter spoke, glancing at me and Ghost, then turning back to Price with a small smile. I sighed and tried to relax. Okay, I'm here now. One step closer, one step closer.

A tall, skinny man stood beside the entrance of the jet, dressed in a black suit, black pants, and a neat red bow tie. He looked as if he were heading to a wedding or a date, exuding a certain handsome charm. I assumed he was our pilot, ready to take us to Mexico.

Ghost pushed the truck door open and stepped out. His body was fascinating; I had never seen anyone like him before. I could stare for hours, tracing the lines of his tall, muscular frame, wanting to feel his body with my bare hands, just for fun. And that mask—what did he look like underneath it? I doubted he would ever show me, given how little we knew each other.

I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt, opened the door, and stepped out. The jet was a beauty, clean and pristine. Though it was pure white, I would have always prefer it in black, which was more my color. The weather hadn't changed; it was still colder than Antarctica, with a breeze that felt like it could turn anything it touched to ice.

My eyes slid to the side where Ghost stood, further away from us, looking at the scenery. To be fair, it was breathtaking. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of color, with a fresh cold air blowing in our faces. It was refreshing, despite the numbing cold.

Price was ahead, talking animatedly with the pilot, his hands moving like he was dancing. I had to admit, I felt a bit nervous. A rush of adrenaline coursed through me at the thought of what lay ahead. Then my eyes fell on Ghost again. He stood alone, still gazing at the horizon. His arms hung relaxed at his sides, his pose straight and robotic. Maybe I could get him to talk about himself a bit more. Was that even possible? Worth a shot.

"Hey there, Ghost," I said cheerfully, stumbling up beside him.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ghost's eyes judge me, wondering why I was there, interrupting his peaceful moment.

"What do you want?" Ghost replied, irritated, as if my presence was an unwelcome intrusion.

Ghost gave me mixed feelings. Sometimes he seemed to care about me, but other times he sounded annoyed, even though I hadn't done anything. I was never rude or hurtful—unlike him. Well, except for calling him Simon, but that didn't count.

"Looks like someone's mad," I said ironically. "Need mommy to hug you, huh?" I chuckled, hitting my elbow on his arm.

"Y/N, you're being very annoying right now," he said, his irritation growing, his fists clenching at his sides. "Shut up."

"Oh, really?" I smirked up at him.

"Don't make me do stuff I don't wanna do," Ghost's voice went deeper, his eyes falling on me with a mix of annoyance and something else—maybe hatred.

"Like what?" I replied cockily, tilting my head and giving him a mocking look.

Ghost grabbed my chin hard, pulling me closer. I couldn't speak, his grip was too strong. Forced to stand on my tiptoes, I had no choice but to meet his gaze.