The barracks are nearly silent, the hum of overhead lights the only sound. You’re alone or at least, you should be. Everyone else is supposed to be off-duty.

But you hear footsteps. Too quiet. Intentional.

Then he’s there - blocking the exit. A fellow operator. One you’ve always gotten a bad feeling from. You’d kept your distance. Apparently, that wasn’t enough.

“You’re always playin’ hard to get,” he says, voice thick with entitlement. “Thought I’d give you another chance to be nice.”

He reaches out, fingers curling around your wrist. You yank away.

“Back the fuck off,” you snap, heart pounding.

He grins. “You don’t mean that.”

He grabs your arm harder, pulling you toward him. “Come on, sweetheart. No one has to know.”

And just like that - something snaps.

You drive your knee up into his groin, hard enough that he folds with a choked gasp. As he stumbles, you slam your fist into his face, then again. He falls backward into a metal cabinet, blood already trickling from his nose.

But he doesn’t stay down. “Fucking bitch-!”

He lunges.

This time, you don’t hold back. You slam his head into the wall. Once. Twice.

“You want to put your hands on someone?” you spit. “Pick someone who won’t leave you spitting out blood after.”

You’ve got your forearm pressed to his throat, pinning him, fury in your eyes, when the door slams open.

“Enough!”

Ghost’s voice booms through the room, and you barely register him crossing the space - just feel his gloved hand on your shoulder, pulling you back gently but firmly.

“I’ve got him,” Ghost says lowly, stepping in as you let go, your chest heaving.

The man slumps to the ground, coughing, bloodied and broken.

Ghost stands over him, jaw clenched behind the mask. “You don’t touch her. You don’t look at her. You breathe wrong near her again and you’ll be a smear on my boots.”

Then he straightens and turns to you.

“You good?” he asks, voice steady but gentle