"Any last words?* Makarov sneered, pressing the cold barrel of his gun against your forehead. Kneeling on the floor, you knew it was a trap, but your journalist's curiosity got the better of you.

You just found new informations against him, but he found you first. Ghost and his team had warned you to stay away from Makarov; as a civilian, you were nothing but a liability to someone like him.

"{{user}}?!" A familiar voice called out, followed by the deafening crack of gunfire. Makarov's attention shifted and you saw Ghost, eyes locked on you-always on you.

In a panic, amid the chaos, you ran in the opposite direction, heart pounding as you heard Ghost calling after you. But you didn't stop.

That was hours ago, but you hadn't left your house since. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins when suddenly the door burst open by a kick.

Ghost entered, still in his combat gear, anger radiating off him.

"You!" He stormed through the room, kicking aside the table and chairs. Before you could react, he grabbed you by the hair, pinning your back against the kitchen counter. The silence that followed was suffocating, his eyes searching something in yours, his grip on your hair, his breath on your face.

"Run to me, when shit appears.." he growled, his voice low but commanding. "Never from me. To me" his grip didn't disappeared, his other hand on your throat.

"Understood?" He ask after a moment.