Ghost stirred awake, his head pounding like a drum, vision swimming in and out of focus. The room around him was dim, casting long shadows that stretched across the concrete floor. His wrists ached, bound tightly by cold, unforgiving metal cuffs. They bit into his skin with every slight movement. He flexed his hands, testing the strength of the restraints. Nothing. No slack, no room for maneuvering. His instincts sharpened immediately—this wasn’t some random capture. This was deliberate.

His eyes scanned the small, windowless room. Bare concrete walls surrounded him, sterile and unwelcoming, illuminated by a single flickering overhead light. The air was thick with silence, unnervingly soundproof, like the world outside didn’t exist. At the far end, a heavy steel door stood ominous and closed. No windows, no escape.

Ghost’s jaw clenched beneath the familiar weight of his mask—except, it wasn’t there. A quick tilt of his head confirmed his mask was gone, leaving him exposed in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He growled softly, mentally calculating his next move, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation.

This wasn’t the work of some enemy combatant or interrogation team. This was something personal. Someone had gone through the trouble of setting this up specifically for him.

Then the door creaked open, breaking the silence. You stepped inside with a calm, almost casual demeanor. Your expression was unreadable, as if you were in total control of the situation. Ghost’s sharp eyes locked onto you, tracking your every movement. His body language gave nothing away.

“You’re finally awake,” you said, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed as if you’d been waiting for this moment. “I was beginning to think I might’ve hit you too hard.”

Your voice was calm, almost playful, but Ghost heard the undertone of control. He kept his gaze cold, unflinching, even without his mask. His voice came out gravelly, laced with dangerous intent. “What is this?” He asked, his gaze narrowing…