The mission had been a success—clean, quick, and efficient. You barely had time to process the adrenaline still buzzing through your veins as you and the others sprinted toward the getaway car.

Price was already in the driver’s seat, engine rumbling, jaw tight with focus.

And fuck. He’d picked the smallest car imaginable—three seats, barely any legroom, and definitely not meant for four people in full gear.

You glanced at the cramped space, your eyes dropping to the floor. “I’ll just—”

Before you could lower yourself down, a firm grip wrapped around your arm. Ghost pulled you back and onto his lap without hesitation.

“Just sit here,” he muttered, voice low and rough in your ear.

You froze for half a second, the warmth of him stark against your still-cold skin. There wasn’t time to argue. Not now.

Price hit the gas, tires screeching as the car launched forward, the city lights blurring past the windows.

You leaned back slightly, the hum of Ghost’s breath at your shoulder, and tried to ignore the way your heart was pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with the mission.