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She nods, her grip on my hand tightening. "I understand, Ghost. But I'm not giving up on us. Not yet."
Her words echo in my mind as we sit there, the fire crackling in the silence. I'm torn between the hope of a future with Ellie and the fear of the pain that might come with it. The mission was always meant to end, but the thought of losing Ellie, of losing this connection we've built, sends a pang of fear through me.
As the days pass, the mission draws to a close, and the reality of our impending separation looms. I find myself torn between the past and the future, between the safety of solitude and the risk of connection. Ellie has become a beacon of light in my world of darkness, but the fear of being burned keeps me at bay.
The end of the mission brings a mix of relief and dread. We've achieved what we set out to do, but at what cost? The thought of losing Ellie, of returning to my life of solitude, is a bitter pill to swallow. But the demons of my past are relentless, reminding me of the pain that comes with caring, with letting someone in.
CHAPTER8
Ellie
The airin the makeshift war room is thick with tension, the blueprints of Marco's dog fighting ring spread out on the table in front of us. Ghost's eyes are hard, his jaw set in a grim line. His fingers trace the paths we'll take, the places we'll plant the explosives. His voice is steady as he outlines the plan, but I can see the tension in the set of his shoulders, the tightness around his eyes. He's worried, and that fear seeps into me, settling heavy in my stomach.
"We go in, plant the charges, get the dogs out, and blow the place," Ghost says, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "We have one shot at this. We can't afford any mistakes."
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. I'm scared, more scared than I've ever been. But not for me. For Ghost. He's become more than just an ally in this mission. He's become a part of me, a part of my heart. The thought of anything happening to him is unbearable.
The night of the raid is a blur of chaos and gunfire. Marco's men retaliate with lethal force, their bullets whizzing past us as we fight our way through. Ghost is a force of nature, his movements swift and deadly. He takes down one man after another, his focus solely on our mission. I fight beside him, my heart pounding in my chest. We are in this together, until the end.
Suddenly, Marco is in front of us, a cruel smile on his face. He points his gun at Ghost, his finger twitching on the trigger. I lunge at him, but he easily swats me aside. Just as he's about to pull the trigger, Ghost steps in front of me, taking the bullet meant for me.
"Ghost!" I scream, my voice echoing in the night. He collapses, a pained grunt escaping his lips. I rush to his side, my hands pressing against his wound in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood. "Ghost," I whisper, my voice choked with fear. "Hold on, please."
He looks at me, his eyes glazed with pain. "Call...the MC," he gasps out. "Get...Bones."
"No," I say, shaking my head. "You need a hospital." I pull out my phone, dialing 911 with trembling fingers. I can't lose him. I won't.
The world narrows to the sound of Ghost's labored breathing, the warmth of his blood seeping through my fingers. The sirens in the distance are a faint echo, a lifeline that seems too far away. I keep my hands pressed against his wound, my voice a constant stream of reassurances. "You're going to be okay, Ghost. Help is coming. Just hold on."
The paramedics arrive in a whirlwind of activity, their hands efficient as they take over from me. I watch as they load Ghost into the ambulance, his face pale against the stark white of the gurney. I climb in after him, my hand finding his. His fingers are cold, but they squeeze mine weakly.
At the hospital, they rush him into surgery, leaving me in the sterile waiting room. The walls are too white, the lights too bright. I feel like I'm floating, adrift in a sea of uncertainty. I clutch my phone, Hector's number dialed but not yet called. He needs to know what happened, but I can't bring myself to speak the words. Not yet.
Instead, I sink into a chair, my mind replaying the night's events. The look on Ghost's face as he stepped in front of me, the sound of the gunshot, the feel of his blood on my hands. I shudder, wrapping my arms around myself. I've faced danger before, but this...this is different. This is personal.
Suddenly, my phone rings, jolting me out of my thoughts. It's Hector. I answer, my voice shaky as I relay what happened. There's a long pause, then Hector's voice, gruff with emotion. "We got Marco. He's in custody."
Relief floods through me, followed by a surge of anger. It's too late. The damage is done. Ghost is fighting for his life because of Marco. Because of me.
"No, Ellie," Hector says, as if reading my thoughts. "This isn't your fault. Ghost knew the risks. We all did."
"But he's hurt because he was protecting me," I say, the guilt heavy in my voice.
"He's hurt because he was doing what he believed in," Hector replies. "Just like you."
His words offer little comfort. I hang up, sinking back into the chair. The waiting room is empty now, the silence echoing around me. I close my eyes, my thoughts turning to Ghost. I picture his smile, the way his eyes light up when he talks about his dogs. The way he looked at me, like I was something precious. I hold onto those memories, praying they won't be all I have left of him.
As the hours tick by, I make a promise to myself. If Ghost pulls through, I won't let fear hold me back anymore. I won't let his walls keep me out. I'll fight for him, for us, just as fiercely as we fought for those dogs. Because I've realized something tonight. I love Ghost. And I'm not ready to lose him.
* * *
The hours stretch into an eternity, each tick of the clock a sharp reminder of the precarious thread Ghost's life hangs by. I'm caught in a limbo of fear and hope, the sterile hospital walls closing in on me. But then, a doctor appears, his face weary but his eyes kind.
"He's stable," he says, and the world rights itself. "He's a fighter. Made it through surgery. He's not out of the woods yet, but he's got a good chance."
Relief washes over me, leaving me weak. I thank the doctor, my voice choked with emotion. He nods, his gaze understanding, before he disappears back into the bowels of the hospital.
I'm allowed to see Ghost then, led to a room filled with the steady beep of machines. He looks so vulnerable lying there, a stark contrast to the strong, guarded man I've come to know. I pull a chair up next to his bed, taking his hand in mine. His skin is warm, his pulse a comforting rhythm under my fingers.
