Betrayal | Ghost x Reader

Now or Never

Word count: 2.2k

My hands clenched and unclenched into fists at my sides as I slowly approached the large black gate. The edges of it were lined with gold trim that created intricate designs, the letters "DS" was written in big, bronze letters directly in the middle, contrasting heavily against the dark back drop. There were two armed guards dressed in black tuxedos, black balaclavas, and wielding large guns in their hands. God this was so stupid. Why the hell did I have to let Graves get in my head like that? I wished I had my earpiece, a pistol, hell even a fucking knife. But I was left defenseless, a sitting duck waiting to get shot at.

My hips swayed left to right as I progressed, it felt nice not being weighed down by tens of pounds of military gear, I only wished it was under different circumstances. Ambient sounds of the party filled my ears the closer I got, some champagne glasses clinked together, hushed chatter, and soft jazz music could be heard. My gaze flitted all over the mansion before eyeing the guards carefully, my palms becoming slick with sweat, why hadn't they noticed me? Should I call out to them? Maybe just say hi? Those thoughts flew out of the window as they raised their guns at me, one of them shooting at the ground right in front of my feet. My entire body flinched as my hands shot up high above my head. "De rodillas (On your knees)!" The one who shot at my feet yelled. God I wished I paid more attention to Alejandro's Spanish.

My eyebrows furrowed, my hands still high above my head, "Wha-" before I could finish, one of them walked to my side and smashed the butt of his gun behind my legs causing my whole body to fall forward, my knees scraping harshly against the cobbled walkway as I landed on top of them. "Por qué estás aquí (Why are you here)?" One of them shouted at me, pointing his gun at my chest. My throat ran dry. What. The. Fuck. Is. He. Saying? If the reason I die is because I don't know fucking Spanish, I will be pissed. "Information?" I asked, my tone having an edge of uncertainty to it. The two guards looked between each other before nodding.

One of them pressed down on an earpiece beneath their black balaclava, his gun never straying from my chest. "Una chica dice que tiene información (Some girl says she has information)," he quickly informed whoever was on the other side of his radio. My hands began to shake above my head, but I kept an impassive look on my face in order to come off as unbothered when in reality I was anything but. Some muffled orders of Spanish sounded out from the earpiece that I couldn't quite make out. Not that I'd understand it anyway. One of the guards quickly slung his rifle over his shoulder before pulling out a black sack from his pocket. 

In just a second, the fibre was pulled over my head roughly, temporarily blinding my vision. My heartbeat began to pound rapidly inside of my chest, my entire body trembling. Please don't let this be how it ends, please, please. One of the guards tightly gripped my arm before yanking me up to my feet. His hands slowly patted me down for weapons, feeling my body up a little too thoroughly around my ass and breasts which had me fuming inwardly with anger. Thank God they couldn't see my face, and thank God I didn't have my knife because the entire fucking mission would've been compromised right then and there. After tapping me on my rear he shoved me, my boots stumbling beneath my legs.

Slowly I tried to make my way forward, my feet tripping around as I attempted to figure where I was supposed to be going. One of the guards angrily wrapped his hand around my neck from behind, dragging me forward as I struggled to match his pace. The hell did he expect? That I would just know my way with a fucking bag over my head? Rolling my eyes I continued to aimlessly walk through the courtyard, almost tumbling over my feet multiple times. "Nos divertiríamos contigo (We'd have fun with you)," the man whispered darkly through the sack, his breath somehow hot enough to be felt through the rough material. 

Eventually I heard a door open in front of me, the coolness of the AC whipped across my form as goosebumps emerged on my skin for a second time. Jesus, it was already cold enough outside, why the hell did they have to turn the temperature down to Antarctic levels inside of the bloody building? Oh God... I'm turning into a British person. This is way worse that I could've ever imagined. My train of thought was stolen from me when I was roughly pushed inside of an elevator, my head smacking against the very back wall. Groaning softly, I tried to reach up to the spot on my head before the bag was ripped from my it.