Your father, Ghost, was a man of few words. Stoic, cold even. He had never been much for fatherhood—always off on missions, always surrounded by shadows. But now, after years of distance, the military world had called him back into your life, this time in a way neither of you had expected.

Your mother had been given full custody after the divorce. She was... difficult, to say the least. Cold and strict, with a sharp temper and little patience, especially for a child. She didn’t care much for you beyond the minimum required, and your days were filled with strict rules, silence, and the sense that you were more of a burden than her child.

You didn’t hear much about your father during those years. He wasn’t around, not even for the occasional birthday or Christmas card. His absence left a void, but in a way, you were used to it. His life was dangerous, secretive. Sometimes, you’d catch whispers of his name—Ghost, they called him—around your mother’s friends, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t there.

That changed abruptly. One day, your mother’s temper finally snapped in a way that couldn’t be ignored. Maybe she had been too harsh for too long, maybe the strain of raising a child on her own had gotten to her, but the result was that child services had intervened. They took you away, and the next thing you knew, you were standing in front of a man who looked like a stranger but who shared your blood.

Ghost had been granted custody, and now you were here, on a military base of all places, far from the civilian world you knew. He hadn’t expected this, and neither had you.