Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

Desert Rose pt-1

Oh my love,
If you were at the level of my madness,
You would cast away your jewellery,
Sell all your bracelets,
And sleep in my eyes.

▪︎▪︎•••Nizar Qibbani•••▪︎▪︎▪︎

The air hung thick with dust and heat as Task Force 141 trudged through the crumbling ruins of the old Afghan village. Sunlight filtered through the jagged holes in broken walls, casting long shadows on the ground. Ghost wiped the sweat from his brow, eyes scanning the horizon with a soldier's instinct. His rifle slung across his back, but his fingers twitched with readiness.

"This place gives me the creeps," Soap muttered, kicking a loose stone aside as they moved. "Can't shake the feeling we're being watched."

"That's cause we are," Ghost said, his voice low and steady. "Taliban's dug in deeper than we thought."

Price, moving a few paces ahead, glanced back. "Keep your heads down. We're not here to take any chances."

Gaz's voice crackled through the radio. "Area's been too quiet, Cap. No sign of movement. Feels wrong."

Ghost clenched his jaw, feeling the same unease gnawing at his gut. This wasn't just another mission. Something about the village-the eerie silence, the way the air seemed to hum with tension-felt different.

"Stay sharp," he growled, his gaze sweeping across the ruins. "This is far from over."

They were closing in on the target when a flash of movement caught Ghost's eye-a figure darting between the rubble, moving fast and silent like a shadow. He froze for a heartbeat, instincts flaring, and his hand moved to raise his rifle.

"Got movement -" he started, but then it happened.

*Click.*

The unmistakable sound echoed in the tense silence, and Ghost felt the icy chill of dread crawl up his spine. His weapon jammed.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, yanking at the bolt to clear it. His eyes never left the figure, but they were already gone, melted into the ruins.

"Ghost, you good?" Soap's voice crackled in his ear, sharp with concern.

"Weapon's jammed," Ghost growled, slapping the rifle. "Got movement up ahead. We've got company."

Price was already on it. "Gaz, Soap, cover the left flank. We'll have to push through fast. Ghost, get that sorted and fall in."

Ghost cursed under his breath as he fumbled to clear the jam, the feeling of exposure gnawing at him. He couldn't shake the thought. Someone was watching them, and they'd just missed their chance to strike first.

And then she appeared.

The woman stepped out from behind a crumbled wall, moving with the grace of someone who knew this terrain as intimately as her own heartbeat. Her eyes blazed beneath the shadow of her Arabic keffiyeh, like molten fire against the harsh lines of the desert. Bronzed by the unforgiving sun, her skin carried the strength of the land, but it was her eyes that arrested Ghost. Dark, deep, lined with kohl, they seemed to burn right through him with a fierceness that was impossible to ignore.