Under brutal interrogation, blood dripped from a gash above your brow, trailing down your bruised face. One eye was swollen shut, the corner of your mouth split from the backhanded blows you'd endured.

"Just confess," the interrogator snarled, pacing before you like a predator. "We know you're the mole. Just admit it, and this ends."

Your head lolled to the side, sweat and blood matting your hair. "I... didn't," you rasped.

Ghost's fists clenched tight, nails biting through his gloves. His whole body vibrated with fury, but guards pinned him back. Price's earlier order shackled him. Stand down, Simon. We can't afford a risk.

Ghost knew it wasn't you. You'd never betray them. But no one listened. Now they were making you bleed, and all he could do is watch.

The interrogator's patience snapped. He grabbed your hair, yanking your head up. You hissed through cracked lips.

Ghost saw the pain ripple across your face and something inside him fracture.

"Last chance," the interrogator hissed. "Who are you working for?"

You coughed, spitting blood. Shoulders slumping, you still refused to break. “I told you...I’m not-"

The interrogator drove a fist into your ribs, Ghost heard the sickening crack of bone. You gasped, a strangled cry slipping through your teeth.

Ghost tensed, every fiber screaming to act. He strained against the guards, growling, "Let me go, you bastards!" But they didn’t.

He could see it-how close you were to slipping. Your head drooped, breaths shallow and wet, blood trickling from your mouth to the cold concrete. Ghost's vision blurred with fury, his heart hammering in his chest. The door slammed open.

"Stop!" A soldier barged in, dragging a familiar, beaten man. “This is the mole, we got him.”

The room stilled. The interrogator stumbled back, horrified. Ghost didn't wait. He tore free from the guards and stormed toward you. His gloved hands, slick with your blood, undid your restraint.

You sagged forward, he caught you, pulling you close. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He said softly.