I Feel It In My Bones (Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)

Double-Crossed: Part Five

'Where are we going, exactly?' You murmured through the night.

Sandman gestured to the radio in his hand. 'Been listening in on this. Ghost was sighted in a nearby town, but they lost track of him. We're going to try and find him first.'

Your heart lurched at the mention of Ghost. 'What about Soap? Gaz? Price?'

Sandman's lips pulled into a firm line. 'Haven't heard anything.'

You tried to ignore the flutter of worry that spread through your chest.

One thing at a time. Find Ghost, then find everyone else.

You continued in silence until the faint glow of street lamps broke through the silhouettes of the tall trees, the warm light bright against the dark surroundings. Sandman clicked the torch off and slipped it into his pocket, shifting the medkit strapped to him out of the way. The air was misted with dense drizzle as you arrived in the town, painting the cobblestone streets with a slick sheen. Your gazes hardened as you entered into a narrow street.

A crackle from the radio in Sandman's pocket caught your shared attention. '3-2, any sign of 'em?'

With both of your focus drawn to the sound, you almost missed a quick movement from the corner of your vision. Sandman threw his arm out, and your back smacked against the wall, sending a shockwave along your spine. You glowered at him, but he just shook his head and raised a finger to his lips.

Another voice replied came through the radio - deeper than the last - and also through the narrow streets. Whoever was talking was nearby. 'Not yet. Check everywhere, assume they're alive and dangerous...'

'Let's hope not. That's a shitstorm we don't need,' the first voice scoffed.

The other Shadow sounded further away now. 'They were ordered to stand down and they didn't.'

You could almost feel the unease from the first Shadow. 'I don't like where this is goin', man... It's not right. These are 141 guys...'

Guys.

Plural.

You looked up at Sandman, a flicker of hope evident in your cadence. 'They have to be talking about Ghost and Soap.'

The sound of the footsteps faded into the distance, but Sandman's features remained cautious. 'Let's hope so. But Graves has men everywhere. We need to be careful.'

Fucking Graves.

Him and Shepherd had put you all in this position. Running for your lives in a small Russian town, being hunted down like prey when you should be the predators.

You pulled your balaclava higher onto your face in an attempt to block out the chilling air, though your gaze was colder than the bitter temperature.

They will live to regret their choices.

You and Sandman ventured back onto the cobblestone path, staying close to the shadows. The rain-soaked air carried whispers of distant conversations, footsteps, and the occasional drip from an awning. The faint glow of street lamps provided patches of visibility.

You skulked forward quicker than Sandman, eager to find any sign of Ghost and Soap. Your blood thrummed with determination, your heart beat with anticipation.

You wondered what it would be like to see them again - if Soap would greet you with that wide grin of his, clap you on the shoulder, ruffle your hair. You wondered how Ghost would react. All you wanted to do was see his face. You wanted to see the upwards curl of his lips when he saw you, the way his brown eyes softened as they met yours, the way he always made sure to stay close to you.