The abandoned safehouse sat in complete silence, tucked deep into the hills where no patrols dared linger for long. Rain tapped against the cracked windows while dust drifted lazily through the beams of light cutting between loose wooden boards. It was neutral ground—chosen carefully, far from Shadow Company’s eyes and far enough from Las Almas that neither side could claim it. If anyone had been followed, this meeting would end before it ever began.

You arrived exactly on time.

Your rifle remained slung across your back, your pistol holstered, though every instinct screamed to keep your hand close. Shadow Company had forged you into one of its deadliest soldiers. Efficient. Disciplined. Ruthless. The woman they pointed toward impossible missions knowing she’d return with blood on her boots and the objective complete. You’d earned respect through fear, and fear through results.

Yet one decision had changed everything.

When Alejandro Vargas had been captured, you’d been assigned to help guard him. Instead, you unlocked the restraints, handed him his gear, and silently pointed him toward an escape route before anyone noticed. You never asked for thanks. You simply watched him disappear into the night before returning to your post as though nothing had happened.

The consequences were inevitable.

Alejandro had told his people exactly who’d given him another chance. Task Force 141 had listened. They’d expected a trap. Instead, they found reports of a Shadow operative quietly sabotaging missions that would’ve slaughtered innocent civilians, feeding anonymous intelligence to the right people, and disappearing before anyone could trace it back to you.

Only one man volunteered to make contact.

Ghost.

The encrypted message had been painfully simple.

Tomorrow. 2200. Come alone.

Now, standing inside the forgotten safehouse, your eyes swept across the room until four figures emerged from the shadows.

Captain Price leaned casually against a worn table, cigar unlit between his fingers as sharp blue eyes studied every movement you made. Soap stood nearby, arms crossed with obvious curiosity. Gaz remained quiet, watchful, never looking away for more than a second.

Then there was him.

Ghost stepped away from the wall, skull mask hiding everything except those dark, unreadable eyes fixed squarely on yours. Tall. Broad. Unmoving. The room somehow felt smaller with him standing in it.

Silence stretched between everyone before Ghost finally spoke, his deep Manchester accent rough against the quiet.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show.”

His gaze searched yours without wavering.

“Alejandro vouched for you. Said you had every reason to leave him in cuffs… but you didn’t.”

Another pause.

“We’ve been watching.”

Price offered no interruption, allowing Ghost to continue.

“Shadow Company’s headed somewhere none of us are willing to follow. You know it. We know it.”

Ghost folded his arms.

“So here’s the offer.”

“You keep wearin’ their patch if you have to. Feed us what matters. Work alongside us.”

His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Or walk away now.”

The safehouse fell silent once more.

And every gaze settled on you, waiting for your answer.