"Absolutely Not."

Chapter 2: Revelation

Without my weapon in the form of an edible bulb, I was left defenseless. How silly I must have looked in civilian clothing with no protection, just standing there like some vulnerable dunce. Like a sitting duck or a deer in headlights, I was just asking to be hunted.

Bending to the side, Price picked up my fallen ingredient and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. He'd found his way in, and now I faced the consequences of my carelessness. I'd grown too comfortable here.

It was unlike me to have guests over. Granted, this one was unwarranted, it still counted. However, I'd spent too much energy keeping nosy strangers out of this new life of mine, that my heart raced, anticipating the worst. Price was technically an intruder so maybe my reaction breathed some validity.

The person I was then, and the person I was now were two different entities, it seemed.

While before, I welcomed any and all social interaction. Dancing in the kitchen while blasting Taylor Swift with the other recruits was a normal scene on an off night. I looked for a reason to meet new people. Jokes hit just right in my stomach, and money was meant for having drinks at the bar or for presents given to loved ones.

But now, music didn't have the same effect, and I hid inside more than I ever had. Laughter never occurred naturally, and money was spent frugally for necessities even if no reason to existed. Life now was simple and easy, and no threat to survival kept me up longer than needed. I slept in if I wanted, and I defended myself with guns should the need arise, not as a prerequisite to staying alive.

I could be a proper human without fear.

Despite having been practically forced into this predicament, I preferred the loneliness over the persistent peril.

I stood right where I froze, my muscles not cooperating but my mouth fully operable, "How the hell did you find me?"

In one smooth motion, he slid the dark-leathered book that I hadn't noticed from his lap and tossed it onto the table with a soft thud. "Ghost's journal. Said something about you going to Russia if things ever got too messy. Took a while to find you."

My jaw clenched at the name. He only appeared in my nightmares, engulfed in flames, skull mask melting into charred skin... I shook away the image before meeting Price's gaze again. "What gave me away?"

He gave me a confident smirk. "The mountains."

With bristled shoulders and clenched fists, I silently cursed at myself for being so pronounced for anyone who knew where to look. "Russia's a big place," I retorted, "Mountains are vast. So many people. Must've been quite the search."

"Why'd ya think it took me over a year?"

Swallowing thick nervousness down a dry throat, wrinkles created hills of their own when my eyebrows drew together. He had an answer for everything, and it rubbed me the wrong way.

"Why are you here," the question slipped through my mouth as a demand rather than an inquiry.

The Captain lightly gestured towards the journal before tugging out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and extending it out in my direction for me to take. When he noticed my hesitation, I watched with bated breath as he placed it atop Simon's journal. "Had this in it," he stated.

My hazel eyes wanted it all to burst into flames, destroying all evidence this was ever happening. I'd spent the past thirteen months running away from the past, and now my trailing history had caught up to me as pieces of paper and the smell of cigars.

"What is it?" My eyes flickered from the paper back up to his unreadable face, my tone flat.

"Just read it."

It only took a couple of slow strides to make it to the pile he'd made on my clean table, picking up the single sheet and unfolding it, my face twisted in a frown.

Scribbled-out words at the top of the page stung my retinas; I recognized the handwriting immediately. My mouth wasted no time in drying completely out, my trembling fingers folding the letter back up to give me a reprieve from reliving old grief.

I didn't need this today.

I could have lived the rest of my secret life without this.

"What'd you want, Price?" I managed to croak out as I tucked the past into my back pocket for another time. When I was ready. If such a day came to be. "Surely you didn't come all the way to Russia just to hand me a letter?"

As every action I made was out of hesitation, he was the exact opposite, ready with quick responses as if he were coiled up like a serpent ready to strike. "I want to recruit you."

For the first time in our interaction, I took no pause.

"No."

I'd left the military behind, and that included 141 especially. Some things were meant to die, and my connection to the task force was one of them. As a previously contracted Shadow by Price, recruited initially by Simon, I'd figured they'd wanted nothing to do with me after I ran.

Traitor to Graves. Coward to Price.

Mole.

The way he leaned back into my chair, making himself quite at home, fueled me with irritation. "Tell me what I can do, then. To change your mind. Name it, I'll make it happen."

The only thing that I truly wanted couldn't happen. No one was able to raise the dead.

"I'm happy here," my mouth lied comfortably, "Safe." That last half wasn't much of a twist to the truth.

"Until you're not."

Expression deadpan while emotions running unsettled in my gut, I stared him down. Between now and my last mission, where things went south quickly, my ability to read people and their true meaning hadn't perished beside Simon.

My arms folded across my chest, physically and emotionally blocking myself in as he began to corner me into a hole I knew I'd eventually fall down. "I really hope you're not threatening me inside my own home as you sit in my favorite chair, Price. I'm content. Secure."

Hands flew up in mock surrender. "I did no such thing. Just trying to reiterate that I got into your home relatively easily, and someone else, someone not on your side, might have been able to find you instead."

"You found me through S-Ghost's journal. I don't think anyone else who is alive knows where to look." My following laugh held bitter contempt. I picked up the onion and tossed it lightly in the air, catching it. "I need to eat before I chew your head off as an alternative for food. Do you like lamb stew?"

I was trying so desperately to steer the conversation away, toward a detour that didn't involve such bumpy terrain, but he kept hold of the reigns with a tight grip.

"Shepherd and Graves are still alive."