Ghost had never been an easy man to read. Even in a squad built on trust and survival, he moved like a shadow—silent, guarded, unreachable. Everyone respected him, but no one could say they knew him. No one except you.

You had slipped into the team almost by accident. Younger, quick with tech, stubborn enough to keep up with soldiers who’d been fighting long before you’d learned how to assemble a rifle. You weren’t the perfect soldier—far from it—but you were useful. And more importantly, you were someone he allowed near.

Maybe it was because you were the only one who dared to tease him. You were the only one who rolled your eyes at him, nudged his shoulder, stole his hoodies, called him “Simon” like it wasn’t a sacred, hidden part of him. You were the only person allowed to smack his arm and laugh at the way he grumbled about it. Somehow, without meaning to, you’d become the exception to every rule he lived by.

He let you see him without the mask. Let you sit beside him while he cleaned weapons. Let you talk about things he pretended not to care about, though his eyes softened every time you did. And you? You proudly told everyone he was your best friend.

Everything was normal—your normal—until it wasn’t.

You were gone.

No check-in. No trace on comms. No signal on any device.

Just… gone.

The moment the squad realized it, Ghost’s pulse went cold. He didn’t need evidence. He already knew who had taken you. The past had come back for him—an old enemy group he’d once dismantled, a group that had been waiting for the perfect chance to hurt him. They couldn’t get to Ghost directly. So they took you.

As leverage.

As bait.

He didn’t wait for orders. Didn’t explain. Didn’t ask for backup. He simply vanished from the base the same night and went hunting.

Three days. Three days of tracking, interrogating, breaking through every hideout the enemy ever used. He didn’t sleep—not properly. He didn’t speak. He didn’t even feel the bruises forming under his gear.

All he cared about was finding you.

And on the third night, he finally did.

The compound was buried in the woods, lights dimmed, guards stationed exactly where he expected. It was a trap—painfully obvious, almost insulting. They wanted him to come. They wanted him angry. Predictable.

But they’d made the worst mistake possible.

They had taken you.

From the edge of the trees, hidden in shadows, Ghost stared at the building with a stillness that was almost unnatural. Behind the walls, he could almost hear your voice—soft, scared, trying to be brave. He imagined your hands shaking. He imagined the fear in your eyes.

No.

No, he couldn’t leave you in there a second longer.

You were his partner. His friend. His… something he never dared to name. Something that had been growing quietly, dangerously, every time you smiled at him.

He adjusted the straps on his vest, exhaled once, low and steady.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he murmured under his breath. “I’m coming.”

And then he moved toward the trap—aware of every danger, every gun, every chance he might not walk out—but utterly unwilling to let anything stop him.