Ghost (The Alpha Elite Series) by Sybil Bartel

Author:Sybil Bartel [Bartel, Sybil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sybil Bartel
Published: 2024-09-27T00:00:00+00:00

Safiya

The SEAL hit the button for the garage level, and the doors slid shut.

Heavily silenced seconds later, I was following him to a row of parked Range Rovers as he scanned the underground garage. Then, to my surprise, he stopped at the passenger side of one of the vehicles closest to the exit and opened the door for me.

“Thank you,” I murmured, getting in.

He did not say anything as he shut my door.

But a moment later, when he was behind the wheel and backing out, he glanced at the tote bag I had placed by my feet. “You carrying?”

“I am sorry?”

“A gun. You got one?”

My heart hammered. “No.”

He used the rearview mirrors to glance behind us. “You know how to shoot?”

I hesitated. Growing up, we had an old shotgun. My anne told me it was in case we had to euthanize one of the sheep. But as I got older, I realized it was not the only reason. Whenever the bad men came, she would always grab it and conceal it near us.

The first and only time I fired the weapon, I was not aiming at one of our herd.

The memory flooded in.

Trembling, frightened, I sniffed back a quiet cry.

“Sh, sh, Safiya.” My anne’s arms wrapped tight around me. “Do not make a sound. Go to sleep. Pretend if you have to.” She nervously glanced toward the cracked, darkened window as the voices of the loud and vulgar drunk men trailed in from just outside our home. “No matter what happens, stay asleep. Keep your eyes closed. Promise me.”

“I am scared.” I hugged my anne tighter. “When will they leave?”

“Promise me, Safiya.” She grasped the sides of my face and looked at me with her stern expression. “You will keep your eyes closed. No matter what. Say it.”

“I promise,” I whispered.

“Good.” Shifting, she moved the shotgun she was hiding under the covers until it was lying between us. “Remember what I have told you. Always—”

The front door burst open, and for a heart-stopping moment, the silhouette of a man filled the moon-streaked doorway.

Then he stumbled in, and my anne jumped up and blocked the intruder’s path to where I lay hidden as she yelled at him. “Get out!”

The man laughed right before he grabbed her arm and dragged her out the door.

The shotgun was in my hands, and I was on my feet before I could think.

I did not aim.

I did not close one eye.

I did not consider all the other men drinking around the fire they had lit right in the middle of our land.

I pulled the trigger.

The gun kicked up, a deafening boom thundered across the night, and I was thrown back.

Landing hard in the dirt, pain shooting up my back, the gun still in my hands, smoke came from the barrel.

All the men ducked, but my mother, my anne, she moved.

Rushing at me, she grabbed the gun with one hand, the front of my gömlek with the other, and she yanked me to my feet.

Then she yelled,

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