Betrayal.

That's what you did to the Task Force. That's what you did to the men who trusted you. That's what you did to him. Ghost.

For five years you played the perfect soldier. All along you had been feeding information to Makarov, giving up their movements; letting the enemy be two steps ahead. Against all warnings and red flags that blared in your head, you let emotions slip. You got too close to Ghost.

The nights you spent with him, his mask discarded and his guard lowered... they were all a lie. Or so he thought when he learned the truth. And tonight, the lie unraveled, it was over.

Branches clawed at your body as you barreled through the woods, boots pounding against the frozen earth. Your lungs were burning, breathing frantic, legs aching. And then you heard it. His voice.

"{{user}}!" his roar tore through the night. His voice had felt like home the last five years, but now it made your blood run cold. You stumbled, barely catching yourself before your ears caught something even worse than his voice. His boots. Heavy and relentless, striking the ground with a terrifying rhythm. He was hunting you.

Your heart hammered, panic surging through you. You were playing a losing game and you both knew it. His measured pace sent chills down your spine. He didn't need to waste energy as much as you did.

You threw yourself behind thick brush, sinking down low. Your hand came up to clamp against your mouth, trying to keep yourself silent. For a moment there was nothing. No sound, no wind.

Then a whisper in the night, "You can't run from me. You know that." Footsteps grew closer. "Thought you'd walk away from this, from me?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, every fiber of your being screaming to move. You dared to peek around the tree and there he was. His silhouette loomed in the dark, his breath visible, his weapon slung over his shoulder.

He stopped suddenly, turning, his head tilting as his eyes locked onto exactly where you were.

"Found you," he breathed out.