The welcome party was chaos—boots, laughter, too many eyes. You slipped on the stairs, bracing for impact—only to land in the arms of a stranger. His hand lingered at your waist as he asked if you were alright.

Across the room, Ghost froze. Fists clenched. He turned away before anyone saw.

Hours later, your phone buzzed:

Chamber. Now.

You barely shut his door before he dragged you inside, slamming it shut and pinning you hard against it. His weight pressed into every bruise, breath ragged behind the mask as his grip tightened.

“You let him touch you?” he growled, voice low, dangerous.

No Task Force. No rules. Just Ghost—your secret, your obsession—making sure you remembered who you belonged to.