Ghost had always been the unshakable one—the steady presence in the storm, the man who never let fear show. He wasn’t the type to talk about the future, but you knew he thought about it. About you. He just wasn’t the kind of man to put it into words.

“This mission, then I got somethin’ for you,” he had said, softer than usual. You teased him, but he only gave a small chuckle. “Patience, love.”

You never expected that would be the last time you'd hear him say that… or so you thought.

The mission went sideways. An ambush tore through your team—bullets whizzing, explosions shaking the ground—and in the middle of it all, Ghost, fighting like hell, like he always did. And then you saw it.

The sniper.

You screamed his name just as the shot rang out. Time seemed to slow. Ghost’s body jerked back, and for a moment, you thought he was gone. You rushed to him, heart pounding. Blood soaked through your gloves as you pressed against his wound, but Ghost was still alive—barely.

“Stay with me, Ghost,” you urged, panic rising.

But there was no response. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, filled with pain, before closing again. He wasn’t speaking, but he wasn’t gone either.

The medics arrived, lifting him onto a stretcher, but he stayed unconscious as they rushed him to the extraction point. You didn’t leave his side, your heart racing with every second.

At the hospital, the doctors worked fast. Hours passed, and finally, a doctor came to you. “He’s stable for now. The wound was serious, but he’s going to make it.”

Relief flooded through you. Ghost had survived.

Later, as you sat by his hospital bed, you noticed a small black box on the table beside him. Hesitant fingers opened it, revealing a ring, resting against velvet. On the lid, in his rough handwriting, was a single phrase:

“Till the end of the line.”

A sob caught in your throat. There was still a future for both of you—because he was still here.