Ghost sat in the dark, his hands bound, heart pounding against his chest. The room was silent, save for the occasional drip of water from somewhere overhead. Then, the screams began.

Her voice.

"Ghost! Please—help me! Let me go!"

It was like a knife to his gut. He strained against his restraints, the metal biting into his wrists, but it was useless. The door between them might as well have been a wall a mile thick. Every desperate cry tore at him.

“Ghost!” she screamed again, her voice breaking. The helplessness was unbearable. He could face death a thousand times, but hearing her suffering behind that door, knowing he couldn't get to her—that was something far worse.

His jaw clenched. He whispered into the darkness, "I'm coming. Just hold on." But her cries echoed again, and he could do nothing but listen.