Path Of Hate || Phillip Graves x Reader ||

Chapter 17

Ghost and I moved cautiously through the dimly lit tunnels, the air thick with tension. We encountered a few Konni troops along the way, dispatching them swiftly and quietly. Yet, the silence from Ghost weighed heavily on me, sinking my heart.

"Why aren't you talking to me?" I finally broke the silence.

"Stay focused, Slasher." He hadn't even used my real name.

"Ghost, what's your problem?!"

"I don't have time for your tantrums. Enough."

Fucker. I clenched my jaw, irritation bubbling beneath the surface as we approached an opening in the tunnels. Ghost kicked down the door, revealing a horrific sight—about fourteen hostages, fear etched on their faces, and three dead bodies lying nearby.

I took a breath, steeling myself. "Everyone, please stay quiet. We'll be back for you, but for now, lay low and stay put for your own benefit."

Whispers began to ripple through the hostages, worry palpable in the air.

"Quiet!" Ghost barked, cutting through their fear and restoring silence.

We quickly retreated from the room, gunfire erupting in the distance.

"Ghost, please talk to me."

"Enough, Slasher. Focus on the mission."

I wasn't going to beg for his attention. We pressed on towards the gunfire, running into Gaz along the way.

"They ambushed us. Be ready," he warned, urgency in his tone.

No sooner had he spoken than we found ourselves surrounded by Konni troops. The air erupted with gunfire. I dove behind a pillar for cover, firing at the nearest enemies. We were outnumbered, but I wasn't about to go down without a fight. I drew my small knives from my thigh strap, tossing them with precision. Each one found its mark in the throats of my targets, their bodies collapsing in a gruesome display.

One Konni soldier, slipping on the blood pooling beneath him, was swiftly dispatched by Ghost. As I moved closer to him, we fell into a rhythm, our backs pressed together as we fought off wave after wave of soldiers. Eventually, we stood alone, the echo of gunfire fading into silence. I turned to Gaz, who gave us a thumbs-up, a flicker of reassurance amidst the chaos.

"Ghost, back up here, now!" Soap's voice cut through the aftermath.

We hurried to join Soap and Price, where the bomb was located. And then, there he was—Makarov.

Gaz charged at him, but Ghost kept firing at the approaching Konni soldiers. The situation was spiraling. Price and Soap struggled to disarm the bomb with gunfire all around. I turned just in time to see Gaz on the ground, pinned by Makarov.

Without thinking, I lunged forward, stabbing Makarov twice. He kicked my foot, sending me sprawling, but I quickly regained my footing.

"И мы снова встретились, Макаров (And we meet again, Makarov)."

He chuckled darkly. "I thought you were dead."

"I'll come back every single fucking time to haunt you, even when I am dead." I aimed to buy my team time, glancing past him to gauge the situation. When Makarov turned to see what I was looking at, I seized the moment to kick him, but he merely staggered back.

"Try harder, сука (bitch)," he sneered.

I prepared for another strike, but a searing pain shot through my arm—one of the Konni soldiers had hit me. Shit, that hurt like hell. I glanced back at Makarov, who was now advancing towards the bomb. I rolled against a nearby bench, clutching my grazed arm, trying to staunch the bleeding, but my vision blurred.

Suddenly, I felt a grip on my hair. The adrenaline surged as I reached for my knife, slashing at my attacker's wrist. He screamed, releasing me, and I plunged the blade into his neck.

Holy fuck, I thought, I might pass out. In the distance, I spotted Price fighting Makarov. I forced myself to move closer, but the chaos was escalating. I watched in horror as Soap was shot in the shoulder and Price took a bullet to the chest, collapsing to the ground.

Every step I took felt heavier, but I pressed on, determined to reach them. The scene unfolded like a nightmare—Makarov towered over Price's fallen body, saying something menacing before raising his gun.

In a last-ditch effort, Soap summoned the strength to stab Makarov in the throat. It was a valiant move, but Makarov was far from finished. He kicked Price viciously, aiming his gun at Soap next.

"No!" I screamed, adrenaline coursing through me as I shoved off an enemy soldier.

But it was too late. Soap was shot in the head.