Page 36 of Shadowed Vows: Ghost
Before I can fire back a retort, the front door swings wide.
Nitro walks into the room, his lean swimmer's build and vibrant blue-green eyes catching my attention. He flashes a mischievous smile at Ghost as he enters.
"Hey sweetheart, did you miss me?" He calls out playfully, his words flowing fast and light.
I bite my lip, barely holding back a laugh as Ghost glares at Nitro.
"Close your damn mouth," Ghost growls, his jaw clenched tight.
Behind Nitro, three more men enter. One carries a long, narrow case that immediately screams "sniper rifle" to me. The others bring gear that looks military-grade, not the kind of equipment civilians should have.
I look up as Ghost straightens, his body language shifting from confrontational to commanding in an instant.
"Alina, let me introduce you." He gestures to the three men who've entered.
"This is Frost," Ghost nods toward a lean man with watchful dark eyes. His posture is perfect—almost unnervingly so—and he acknowledges me with nothing more than a slight tilt of his head. The long case in his hands is carried with the reverence usually reserved for precious artifacts.
"Blade," Ghost continues, indicating a powerfully built Asian man with high cheekbones and intense focus. He moves with surprising grace for his size, each gesture precise and deliberate. His eyes assess me quickly, cataloging details with tactical efficiency.
"And Saint," Ghost finishes, motioning to a tall, lithe man with wavy blonde hair and vivid green eyes. Unlike the others, he offers me a disarming smile that transforms his sharp features into something almost approachable. His body language shifts slightly, softening his edges in a way that seems deliberate rather than natural.
I study each of them, taking in the details. They're all tall, well-built, and exude quiet danger that makes my skin prickle. My reporter's instincts catalog everything—the way they position themselves around the room, how they defer to Ghost without any verbal instruction, the casual way they carry weapons.
"What about Chaos and Reaper?" Ghost asks, his tone clipped.
Blade answers, his voice measured and diplomatic. "Stayed behind to monitor the situation. Reaper thought it best to maintain observation protocols."
After a round of nods and murmured greetings, I can't help myself.
"Are you making a rugby team or is this some kind of special ops height requirement?" I ask Ghost, waving my hand at the wall of muscle surrounding us.
Nitro erupts with laughter, his whole body shaking with genuine amusement. "She nailed it, boss. We should get jerseys made."
Frost's eyebrow ticks up a fraction—apparently his version of rolling on the floor laughing.
"Inefficient use of resources," he comments, voice clipped and precise.
I almost catch a hint of a smile tugging at Ghost's lips, but it's gone in an instant. "Not quite," he replies dryly. "We're a bit more... specialized than that."
I cross my arms. "Specialized how, exactly?"
Ghost stares me down, studying me with that penetrating gaze. "You ask a lot of questions for someone who nearly got shot last night."
"Occupational hazard," I shoot back. "But I'm a journalist. Questions are what I do."
Saint steps forward. "Professional curiosity. I can respect that." His voice carries a smooth, adaptable quality, like he could be equally comfortable in a board room or a bar fight, with a hint of an accent I can't quite place. "Though in our line of work, curiosity often leads to complications."
"What line of work is that, exactly?" I press, unable to help myself.
The men exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them.
Ghost clears his throat. "That's need-to-know information, little hellcat. And right now, you don't need to know."
I bristle at the patronizing tone and unwelcome nickname. "I think I do need to know, considering someone just tried to kill me. And I bet this links back to Jenny's murder." I straighten my back, meeting his gaze head-on. "The pieces are falling into place, and it's not looking good."
The room falls silent, the playful atmosphere evaporating instantly. Ghost's eyes narrow, his gaze intense as he studies me. I stand my ground, refusing to be intimidated.
"Jenny Martinez," Blade says softly, recognition dawning on his face. "I remember that case. It never sat right with me."
