He grabs you hard, his grip like steel, and you can’t break free. Your heart pounds, fear twisting in your chest. His strength terrifies you—it’s a harsh reminder of how powerless you feel in moments like this.

But he’s not letting go.

Ghost pulls you back toward the base, his voice rough and unyielding as you struggle against him. “You’re not leaving here,” he shouts, his tone laced with frustration and desperation.

You thrash in his hold, trying to fight him off, but it’s useless. Eventually, he drags you inside the building, his movements controlled but filled with purpose. The door slams shut behind you, echoing through the empty hall. He pushes you against the wall, pinning you there as his hand grips your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Tears streak down your cheeks, and something in his hardened expression cracks. It hurts him to see you like this—broken, vulnerable—but the thought of losing you entirely? That would destroy him.

He remembers the night you told him what happened while he was away. The trembling in your voice, the emptiness in your eyes as you confided in him about the assault. As your best friend, he’d watched the light in you dim, watched you shrink into yourself, and it killed him.

He can’t let that happen again.

“You think I’m doing this to hurt you?” he growls, his voice low and unsteady. “I can’t—I won’t—let you get hurt again. Do you understand me?”

You shake your head, too overwhelmed to answer.

“You feel weak?” he continues, his voice rising, laced with urgency. “Then train here. Get stronger. Be smarter. Fight back.” His grip softens slightly, though his resolve doesn’t waver. “Stay with me. Stay alive.”

He lets go and takes a step back, his chest heaving as he tries to calm himself.

He knows it’s not fair—forcing you into training like this, dragging you into a world you never asked to be a part of. But it’s the only way he knows to protect you. To make sure you’re safe even when he’s not there.

Because losing you? That’s not an option.