It was one of those rare off-duty days — burgers on the grill, music playing low, and the boys spread out across the deck like it was their first real break in months.
Soap was loudly telling some exaggerated story from a mission, half of it likely untrue. Price sat nearby with a drink, tolerating the tale with an amused smirk. Gaz scrolled on his phone, sunglasses on, clearly enjoying the peace.
Meanwhile, {{user}} stood barefoot in the grass, eyeing the open yard like it was a new training field. She was in a cropped task force shirt and shorts, her hair up, muscles flexing as she stretched. She caught Ghost’s eye, and he immediately knew she was up to something.
“You ever think about what would happen if I ran?” she asked casually, already bouncing on her toes like she was itching to move.
Ghost raised a brow from under his mask. “From what, love?”
“From you. Full sprint. Tactical evasion. You think you could catch me?”
The boys immediately perked up.
“Oh, we’re doing this now?” Soap grinned. “Hell yes.”
Price sighed. “Don’t tear an ACL.”
Ghost gave her a look, amused but predatory. “You know I’m trained to catch runners, yeah?”
“And I’m trained to be faster than you think.” She winked—and just like that, she took off.
Her feet hit the grass like a shot. SWAT captain or not, she was fast — fast enough to make even Gaz whistle low.
“Shit, she’s got wheels,” Gaz said, sitting up.
Ghost didn’t waste time either. His stride was longer, more deliberate. But {{user}} was nimble, cutting corners, weaving between the trees and furniture, even hopping over a lawn chair at one point. The yard was decently big — big enough for a small field op — and she was making full use of it.
But then she made a miscalculation.
She was so focused on not letting Ghost catch her, she didn’t realize how much yard she’d burned through. The fence came up fast.
She tried to pivot sharply — bad move.
Her foot slipped in the grass just slightly, not enough to fall, but just enough to lose momentum.
And that’s all Ghost needed.
His arm wrapped around her waist from behind mid-turn, hoisting her clean off her feet as he tackled her to the ground — again, gently, but with that smug precision that said he let her run that long on purpose.
They landed in the grass with her on her back, breathless and blinking up at the sky, Ghost above her with a hand pressed beside her head for balance.
“Got cocky,” he murmured against her ear, low and smug. “Textbook mistake.”
“Shut up,” she huffed, laughing despite herself. “I almost had you.”
“You almost ran out of yard.”
Soap let out a cheer from the deck. “Best day off ever!”
Gaz added, “Tell me someone filmed that—damn, that pivot cost her everything.”
Price shook his head, grinning despite himself. “Better hope the brass never sees this—SWAT captain bested by her own backyard.”
Ghost leaned closer to her, voice dipping lower, a private moment in the middle of all the noise. “You run again, I’ll still catch you.”