THE WOMAN HE HIRED

6

The suspect shifted in his chair, eyes flicking between Dominic and Enzo—then back to Ramsi.

He stared harder this time. Longer.

Recognition slid into place.

“You’re… the Ghost,” he said slowly.

The word landed heavy in the concrete room.

Sage’s posture changed instantly. Still casual. Still leaning. But her hand tightened on the back of the chair.

Ramsi stopped moving.

Just—stilled.

“That’s not a name you should know,” she said evenly.

The man swallowed, relief and fear tangling together. “No one ever sees you. That’s the point. But I’ve heard the stories. Jobs that vanish. Ops that go dark. People extracted without footprints.”

Dominic’s gaze sharpened, cutting to Ramsi.

Enzo’s expression barely shifted—but his attention narrowed, deadly precise.

The suspect leaned forward, emboldened now that he had her attention. “The person who ordered this? They’ve been counting on you coming back in.”

Sage’s eyes met Ramsi’s.

That look—we’re not alone in this.

Ramsi’s jaw tightened. “Explain.”

“They didn’t hire me to kill Moretti,” he said quickly. “Not really. I was bait. A signal. Proof of movement.”

Dominic’s voice cut in, low and dangerous. “Movement of what.”

“The Ghost,” the man replied, nodding at Ramsi. “You.”

Silence pressed in.

Enzo let out a slow breath. “Someone built a contract around a myth.”

The suspect nodded. “They knew if the hit was credible enough, if it hit the right channels, you’d surface. You always do when things tilt this far.”

Ramsi’s hands curled once at her sides. Controlled. Contained.

“You don’t know me,” she said.

“I know your pattern,” he countered. “Disappear. Reappear. Clean it up. Leave no trace.”

Dominic studied her now with new intensity—not suspicion, but something closer to awe edged with calculation.

“That’s why Chicago,” Sage said quietly. “They weren’t hunting him.”

She glanced at Dominic.

“They were hunting you.”

The suspect nodded. “Whoever’s behind this—he’s patient. Old-school. Trained like you, but funded better. He’s been waiting for the Ghost to come back into circulation.”

Enzo’s jaw tightened. “And when she does?”

The man’s smile was thin. “Then the real operation starts.”

Ramsi stepped forward until the light caught her eyes, cold and clear.

“Tell me everything you know,” she said. “Now.”

The man licked his lips. “I don’t have a name. But I know this—he doesn’t want you dead.”

Ramsi’s eyes narrowed.

“He wants you working.”

That landed harder than a threat.

Dominic shifted, stepping closer to Ramsi without thinking, his presence a silent barrier.

“No one recruits what they can’t control,” Dominic said.

The suspect’s gaze flicked to him. “That’s why he’s using you, too. A king draws a ghost out of hiding.”

Ramsi didn’t look away from the man. “You’re done.”

Enzo nodded once. “We’ll handle the rest.”

As Enzo moved to secure the suspect, Sage leaned in close to Ramsi, voice barely a whisper.

“This just went from complicated to personal.”

Ramsi’s gaze drifted briefly to Dominic—steady, assessing, unafraid.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “It did.”

In the flickering warehouse light, four dangerous people stood aligned by necessity, not trust.

And somewhere far above them, the person who had waited years for the Ghost to return finally had confirmation—

she was back.

Enzo finished securing the suspect with the same efficiency that made him lethal in the field, checking restraints twice before stepping back. The man sagged, bravado finally gone.

Sage leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, expression tight. “There’s only one person from our… past who ever got that obsessive with you,” she said, eyes locking on Ramsi. “The one who barely didn’t ruin us.”

Ramsi’s jaw tightened. She didn’t need Sage to finish. “Hall,” she said quietly, voice low, deliberate.

Sage nodded. “Exactly. I’d bet real money he’s tied to this.”

Dominic’s brow lifted. “Hall?”

“Yes,” Ramsi said evenly. “From black-op. He didn’t just disappear because we stopped him—he was… dangerous. Obsessed. More than anyone should be. Tate had to pull us out before it got worse.”

Enzo’s eyes narrowed. “Obsessed how?”

“Hall,” Ramsi said, looking down at the restrained man, “decided he owned me. When I didn’t return his… attention, it escalated. He didn’t just make mistakes. He hunted. He cornered. Tate got wind of it, had to orchestrate an extraction to get both of us out safely.”

Sage added, voice low and hard, “We were lucky to walk away at all. If Tate hadn’t intervened, we wouldn’t be standing here tonight.”

Dominic’s jaw tightened. “And now he’s back?”

“Yes,” Ramsi said. “And if he’s resurfaced, it’s not because he’s just dangerous. It’s because he thinks he can finish what he started.”

Sage leaned closer to Ramsi. “And he’s counting on Moretti as a distraction.”

Enzo stepped forward. “So this isn’t just a hit—it’s personal.”

Ramsi pulled out her phone and typed quickly. RAMSI:

Need Tate. Active locations. Hall’s movements. Now.

Sage’s eyes flicked to Dominic. “Welcome to our world, king.”

Dominic didn’t smile. “I don’t play games.”

Enzo’s phone vibrated almost simultaneously with Ramsi’s. “Movement detected,” he said. “Private airstrip outside the city. Hall checked in about ten minutes ago.”

Ramsi slid her phone away, expression cold. “Tate’s tracking him. He won’t know we’re onto him yet.”

Dominic stepped closer. “You’re not walking into this alone.”

Ramsi met his gaze steadily. “This is my mess.”

“And now it’s in my city,” Dominic replied evenly. “Which makes it ours.”

Sage smirked faintly. “Nothing like a little black-op history to make a night interesting.”

Enzo glanced back at the restrained suspect. “If Hall’s really behind this, he’s dangerous. He knows your methods.”

Ramsi’s eyes flicked toward Dominic. “So do we. And he won’t see the Ghost coming until it’s too late.”

Dominic’s mouth curved slightly. “Good.”

They moved out into the night, the warehouse lights fading behind them. The city had no idea the storm about to hit—but Ramsi, Sage, Dominic, and Enzo did.

And Hall? He was about to learn that ghosts from the past don’t stay buried—and some of them don’t forgive.