Weary and frustrated by how the mission had taken a sharp left turn, Ghost led the new recruit—shadowing him for field experience—toward an abandoned house just off the battlefield.

Separated from their squad with no way to signal for immediate extraction, they trudged through rough terrain, exhaustion gnawing at them. As dusk thickened into night, they finally spotted the small, decrepit structure.

Ghost pushed the door open cautiously, scanning the dark corners of the one-room house. His eyes landed on a single bed in the middle of the room, the only piece of furniture still intact.

"Of course," he muttered bitterly. After a beat, he sat on the edge, feeling the springs creak under his weight.

"Get some rest," he said flatly, his voice a little softer than expected.

But before the recruit could even sit down, a low, metallic click echoed in the room. Ghost’s muscles tensed as he recognized the sound instantly.

"Trap wire," he said, his voice now tight. His gaze shot to the ceiling, where a tiny red light blinked above. A timed bomb, armed and counting down.

"Bloody hell," Ghost hissed, standing up slowly. He glanced at the bed and then at the recruit, his frustration quickly turning into deadly calm. "Forget rest. We're getting out of here, now."