Reliant ~ [John Soap MacTavish]

XXXV. The Envelope

John 'Soap' MacTavish ~ 19:00

It had been quiet all day.

Nothing interesting happened, and I hadn't seen much of the team today. I had brought Alex to base a bit earlier than I was supposed to start, in hopes of avoiding any run-ins with Price which worked.

It's stupid what we're doing, really.

I know we're not supposed to. But I also can't help it.

Tapping a pen on the edge of my desk like it's some exciting activity, my eyes are glued to the wall in front of me. I've been doing nothing for at least an hour, but right now I don't mind it too much. Research is being done on the fluids, and we're stuck twiddling our thumbs till it's done.

It's when a short knock sounds on my door that I shoot up straighter, quickly unlocking my laptop to pretend I'm busy. "Come in," I mumble, voice kept low and serious.

"This was dropped off for you," Ace stands in the doorframe, holding a stack of envelopes as she holds one out for me. "Grabbed it for you when I got mine."

It's a large one, A4-sized, and from here I can only guess that it's a file of some sort. Ace steps in fully, laying the rather thick envelope on the edge of my desk.

"Thank you, lass," I offer her a smile before she leaves, closing the door behind her.

After a short few moments of acting like I'm busy and making sure she's gone, I reach out for the envelope. It's surprisingly heavy and sealed with tape.

Unusual.

My name is written out in messy handwriting, not quite in the middle, and somewhat lopsided. Seems like it was done in a rush.

I stick my finger between the small opening and rip open the envelope before turning the entire thing upside down. The content of it fell on my desk with a dull thud, most of it being just paper. Some pictures fall off to the sides, and when I turn one around to see what's on there, the muscles in my jaw tighten in response.

It's pictures of Alex.

Is this entire thing about her?

I push some of the pictures aside to grab the stabled-together stack of paper, immediately seeing that my previously made assumption was true. It's a file. Alex's file. And it doesn't take me too long to notice that there's information here that we didn't find in our initial background check.

Before diving into the heaps of undiscovered info, my fingers wrap around another smaller envelope with the number one written on the back. waisting no time, I rip the entire thing open in a single movement too.

Keep your allies close, but your enemies closer. Isn't it clear? Look beyond the reflection, for even allies cast shadows. Pretentious.

"What in the fucking riddles is this shit," I mutter, throwing the small envelope to the side before finding the thick stack of papers again.

I'm weirded out a bit, and I'm not one to jump to conclusions too quickly, but as I sift through the materials, a sinking feeling in my chest intensifies.

Detailed plans, coded messages, and evidence of meticulous research conducted on us, before this entire alliance was formed, lay before me.

It seems premeditated.

My eyes lock onto a particular page in the stack, a ripped-out sheet from a notebook. It only takes me a second to realize that it's hers, looking at the handwriting. The words on it send a chill down my spine—descriptions of her calculated plan, notes on exploiting our vulnerabilities, and indications that her loyalty was never genuine.

No.

Deep down, I somehow know what this is, and the weight of the betrayal grows heavier with each letter I read.

The photos tell their own story—images of meetings with unidentified figures, covert exchanges, and coded messages exchanged with unknown contacts.

All lies? Was everything a goddamn lie?

As I reach the last few pages, a sense of betrayal solidifies. This wasn't just a recent development; it was a plan set into motion from the start.

This can't fucking be true.

I smack the stack of papers on top of each other, and even though I try to keep my composure, I can't. With a rough shove, I throw the entire file off of the desk. It lands on the floor with a loud thud, and at the same time, my fist flies down on the desk. The entire thing shakes, and the pen tray on the edge of my desk falls down with the files too.

All this time...

Did I waste it for nothing?

My breaths come in ragged gasps as I stagger back, trying to process the magnitude of the deception. The room feels stifling, closing in on me with the weight of nothing but lies. I glance around, searching for some anchor to reality, but everything blurs, and each tick of the clock mocks me, the seconds stretching into an eternity of disbelief.

I pace the room, unable to contain the thoughts churning within. The laughter and whispers now taste bitter, tainted by the web of lies meticulously spun around us.

How could she deceive me like that?

Were even those moments planned?

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, devoid of any humor. The realization hits hard—I was a pawn in her game, a pawn she maneuvered effortlessly. How could I have been so blind?

Had I been the easiest target?

My phone buzzes on the table and I snatch it up, half-expecting a message of explanation or remorse, but there's nothing but a useless email.

I gather the scattered papers from the floor, a montage of evidence that I wish could be erased. Clutching the damning proof, I wrestle with the conflicting desires to confront her and to escape this nightmare.

"MacTavish," a familiar British accent sounds just outside my office. I don't have to guess who it is, as Ghost's large frame stands just behind the frosted glass. He doesn't hesitate to open the door, and even though I permitted him to barge in any time he wishes to, I now hate him for it. I didn't even hear him coming.

"What the fuck—" he keeps his position by the door, looking down at me as I quickly grab the file together, desperately hoping he hasn't seen what it is about. "What is that?"

"Nothing," I reply, my voice sharper than I intended. I press my lips together, forcing the angry expression off my face, but feeling myself fail anyway. I shove the papers back inside the envelope which causes the edge to rip just slightly. I grit my teeth, the small rip irritating me even more. "I gotta go," I say as I reach full height again.

"Johnny," Ghost replies, voice low as he tries blocking the door. "What is going on?"

"Nothing, Simon," I look up at him, my expression blank. "I need to go. Now."

His dark eyes turn even more hooded beneath his mask, his frowning brows appearing under the edge of the fabric. After a moment that feels like an entire fucking hour, he finally steps aside. "You better fucking explain this to me later."

I rush past him, immediately following the path to her room with the file tucked beneath my arm.

A/N

God, I just finished such an intense chapter that's coming later in this story. Can't wait for you to be able to read the entire thing.

Also, I looked back at my chapters and I got a bit self-conscious. Do my stories need more smut scenes? Or is this good enough? Idk, I just feel like I get sucked into the plot quite often. Let me know, bc I'll keep it in mind for the future.

Thanks for reading loves. Hope you have a nice day <3