Ghost stood hidden behind the stacked crates near the bar, arms crossed, his mask blending him into the shadows. His dark eyes were narrowed, watching carefully. His heart pounded against his ribs harder than any battlefield adrenaline ever had.

This was stupid. He knew it. He hated himself for even setting this up. But doubt gnawed at him like a starving animal, whispering what if? in his ear over and over.

And so here he was — standing like an idiot while one of his mates, a cocky younger recruit named Miller, sauntered over to his boyfriend — to you — with a grin that Ghost wanted to punch off his face.

You were sitting casually at the bar, tapping your fingers against your glass. You looked good tonight. Too good. Dressed in that simple fitted shirt and jeans, your lean muscles showing just enough to make heads turn. Ghost scowled beneath his mask as Miller plopped down beside you, flashing a charming smile.

"Hey, Handsome," Miller started, voice dripping with fake confidence. "What's a catch like you doing here all alone?"

From the shadows, Ghost's hands curled into fists. His whole body was tense, ready to bolt in and drag you away if you even smiled at the idiot.

You blinked at Miller, slow and unimpressed. "I’m waiting for someone," you said flatly, barely glancing his way.

Miller chuckled, leaning closer. "Yeah? Someone better looking than me?"