War of Hearts

Chapter Thirty - Intel

The next morning

Hex and Ghost lay perpendicular in the blanketed corner of the rooftop until the sound of movement stirring in the ULF pulled them awake. It was some of the best sleep Ghost could remember having in ages, and something unfamiliar stirred in his chest as he woke up beside her.

She stretched as she forced herself to sit up and looked over her shoulder to smile sleepily at him. His chest tightened even further at the sight and he couldn't stop the smile that formed in return. He wanted to thank her for all she did for him last night, to beg her forgiveness for ever hurting her, and to tell her how much he cares for her. She wanted to reassure him, tell him she saw him and would always be there for him, but somehow, the smile they shared said it all for them. Without a word, they rose to return to the base below.

The 141 all began to slowly gather in the meeting room with the other leaders. Hex and Farah exchanged smiles and sat next to each other, and Ghost deliberately seated himself on Hex's other side. When everyone had arrived, Laswell began to pull up and play the passenger cell phone footage of the plane crash. She paused the video when they got a clear image. "A former ULF soldier wearing a suicide vest on a Russian airliner."

Farah's voice was firm. "She was forced. I'm sure of it." She sat up to look closer at her face. Hex saw the expression and realized this was her friend, Samara, and reached for her hand in comfort.

"What happened at the crash site?" Laswell asked.

"Konni was planting evidence to frame us and collecting the rest. We killed as many as we could and took the phones."

"And the black box?"

"Wiped it clean."

"Smart. You stopped Makarov from controlling the narrative. Some people will still believe the ULF is responsible, but thanks to you, no one can prove it." She pulled up more footage. "This is from a security feed in the airport. Passenger had a boarding pass for Flight 761." She zoomed in on the man's face and Soap shot up from his chair.

"That's Makarov." He walked towards the screen with rage in every step. "Sick bastard's topping American missiles with chemical weapons to kill civilians, and now he's killing his own people on that damned plane."

Gaz hung his head, "and pinning the blame on Farah..."

"And the United States." Laswell added.

Price stood as well. "False flag operations. He wants a war."

Hex leaned forward in her seat and cupped her hands. "East vs West..."

Ghost's voice was grave as he finished her thought, "...the title fight."

Farah shook her head and stood to leave, giving Hex's hand a squeeze before letting go. "I need to prepare my forces," she said with a grim tone, then stormed out in a huff.

The air was deathly still. They were on the brink. Every move they made from here on in had to be perfect. A single misstep and they would be watching the start of World War 3.

Hex stood up to begin pacing when an incoming call came through. Laswell looked at her screen. "Secure transmission, Pentagon ID." Everyone's heads perked up as she clicked, and the screen opened to General Shepherd's face. Interest turned to disgust as everyone grumbled and rolled their eyes, and Soap took a few angry steps away.