The biting cold of Russia had a way of seeping into your bones, an unrelenting chill that matched the darkness of the day. The snow lay heavy on the ground, transforming the world into a muted white void. Ghost, you and your team were on a mission to gather intel on Makarov, but today was less about strategy and more about survival.

Inside the cramped truck, you were shivering, when Ghost’s gaze turned toward you. “Come here,” he said, his voice calm. With uncharacteristic gentleness, he pulled you into the warmth of his jacket, wrapping his arms around you. “Just hold onto me.” Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around him, grateful for the heat radiating from his body. The other soldiers in the back shot you jealous glares, sharing whispers laced with disdain. Later, back at the base, you bolted for the shower, craving warmth. You hardly noticed the shadows lurking outside. It escalated quickly—harsh words, shoving hands, a painful assault until you crumpled in the snow, gasping for breath. Someone sneered, “This is what you get for hogging Ghost” They left you bruised and exposed, lips turning blue against the merciless cold. A few moments passed before Ghost appeared, and his heart dropped when he saw you there, vulnerable. He rushed over, kneeling beside you, fear etched across his face. “No, no…” he said, scooping you into his arms. “I’ve got you.”

He carried you effortlessly, bringing you into his tent. The warmth of it was a stark contrast to the icy night. He draped his clothes over you and tucked you into bed, wrapping additional blankets tightly around your shivering frame. Ghost prepared hot tea and soup, gently helping you to eat and drink. The silence between you felt heavy, but finally, he broke it, his voice low. “What happened?” You glanced down, embarrassment mingled with pain. “It was the others…” Anger flickered in his eyes like a live spark. “Those idiots will regret this,” he growled, clenching his fists, rage coursing through him. “They’ll pay for this. No one touches you. Ever.”