Page 26 of Code Name: Ghost

“Run,” Nick commands, and I don’t hesitate.

We dart through the streets, the cobblestones slick beneath my boots, the air filled with the cacophony of startled voices and pounding footsteps. Nick’s grip never falters, his strength propelling me forward even as my lungs burn with exertion.

A bullet chips off the side of a building just to the left of us. How can that be? I didn’t hear anything. I stumble, a gasp escaping my lips, but Nick pulls me upright, his body shielding mine as we duck into a side street.

“Keep moving,” he growls, his tone leaving no room for argument.

We reach the Range Rover in a blur of movement, and Nick all but throws me into the passenger seat before sliding behind the wheel. The engine roars to life, and we tear down the road, the tires squealing as we take a sharp turn. The chase spills out into the countryside; the streets giving way to open fields and winding roads.

“They’re gaining,” I say, glancing in the side mirror. A black SUV is closing in, its grill flashing like the jaws of a predator.

“Not for long,” Nick replies, his voice calm, almost amused. He floors the accelerator, the Range Rover leaping forward with a ferocity that matches his own.

The SUV keeps pace, its occupants firing at us from the windows. It’s nothing at all like on television or in the movies. It’s terrifying. Nick swerves, the bullets missing by inches, his hands steady on the wheel. My heart is in my throat, the adrenaline a toxic cocktail that leaves me both terrified and exhilarated.

“Hold on,” he warns, and before I can ask why, he veers off the road, the Range Rover bouncing over uneven terrain as we plow through a field.

The SUV follows, its bulk struggling to match our agility. Nick uses it to his advantage, weaving between trees and rocks with a precision that borders on reckless. The world is a blur of green and brown, the sound of gunfire and shattering branches filling the air.

Finally, we reach a narrow ridge, the ground dropping away sharply on either side. Nick doesn’t hesitate, the Range Rover skimming the edge as he pushes it to its limits. The SUV isn’t as lucky; its driver miscalculates, the vehicle skidding and flipping over the edge with a deafening crash.

I exhale shakily, my hands gripping the dashboard as Nick slows, the adrenaline still coursing through me.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his gaze sharp as he glances at me.

“No,” I manage, my voice hoarse. “You?”

“I’m fine.” He reaches over, his hand brushing my arm in a gesture that feels both protective and possessive. “I’m glad you’re okay, because this isn’t over.”

He drives us back to safety, the world slowly settling into a tense quiet. But even as the danger fades, the memory of his dominance, his strength, lingers, wrapping around me like a shroud. I don’t know what’s more terrifying—the men chasing us or the way Nick makes me feel like I belong by his side, no matter the cost.

* * *

The safe house door clicks shut behind us, the sound echoing in the silence like a gunshot. I jump and Nick’s hand reaches out to steady me. My legs feel like jelly, my breath comes in shallow bursts, and my heart hasn’t stopped racing since the chase. The adrenaline is still coursing through me, making every nerve in my body hum with an unbearable energy I can’t shake.

Nick’s movements are controlled and deliberate, the predator in him still alert. He tosses his bag onto the couch and runs a hand through his hair, his muscles rippling beneath his fitted shirt. I want to say something—thank him, yell at him, anything to break the electricity that seems to crackle between us—but the words catch in my throat.

“Sit,” he says, his voice low, a command that brooks no argument.

“I’m fine,” I manage, though my legs betray me as I sink into the nearest chair.

He levels me with a look that pins me in place. “You’re not fine. You’ve been running on adrenaline for hours. Sit, breathe, and don’t argue.”

“I said I’m fine,” I snap, though even I can hear how unconvincing I sound.

Nick’s eyes narrow, his hazel gaze cutting through me like a blade. He crouches in front of me, so close I can see the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his lips press together as though he’s holding back a storm.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly, his hands bracing on either side of the chair. His tone is gentle, but the command is still there, simmering beneath the surface. “Look at me.”

I don’t want to. If I meet his eyes, I’ll fall apart. But I do it anyway, because defying Nick isn’t something I’m capable of right now. His gaze is intense, unwavering, and I hate how much it grounds me.

“I need you to listen to me,” he continues, his voice like a tether pulling me back to reality. “What happened today? That wasn’t luck. You kept your head. That means something.”

I blink, the unexpected praise throwing me off balance. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“Because you’re too busy doubting yourself,” he counters, his hands moving to grip the arms of the chair. “Stop it. You’re alive because you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Cherise.”

The knot in my chest tightens, and I look away, unable to handle the weight of his words. “I didn’t do anything special.”

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