The kitchen smelled faintly of garlic and rosemary, the soft simmer of a sauce bubbling on the stove filling the air with warmth. You moved steadily between chopping board and stove, the rhythmic slice of your knife cutting through fresh vegetables almost meditative. It was one of the rare evenings you could spend at home without the pressing weight of social obligations or your father’s endless demands. Yet, even in these moments, you never quite felt alone — not really.

Because no matter where you went, no matter what you did, Simon “Ghost” Riley and Colonel König were never far behind.

They were more than just bodyguards; they were sentinels, shadows in your periphery. Both men had been handpicked by your father — a man who wielded power and wealth like armor — to ensure your safety above all else. You were the one thing he valued above everything, the irreplaceable prize he kept under lock and key.

Ghost stepped into the kitchen first. His movement was fluid, like a predator who’d long learned to conceal his presence but chose when to reveal it. Even in the casual setting of your home, there was something unyielding about him — a quiet intensity that emanated from the bone structure of his angular face, the way the black skull mask had long since become a symbol of his steely resolve, even if now resting folded in his hands.

His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the room briefly before settling on you. The faded camouflage of his tactical jacket and pants stood in stark contrast to the soft lighting and warm colors of your kitchen, but to him, it was just another uniform — an extension of who he was, even here.

Behind him, König followed with his trademark precision. His tall frame carried the weight of years spent in high-stakes operations, his uniform impeccably pressed and his stance rigid but natural. His dark eyes were sharp, always alert, yet behind that scrutiny was a layer of quiet loyalty. His clean-shaven jaw and close-cropped hair gave him a disciplined, almost regal air, but those who knew him understood the steel beneath the calm surface.

They came from different backgrounds, but they shared a bond — forged in battle, sharpened by discipline, and now repurposed to guard you.

Ghost’s voice, low and gravelly, broke the silence. “Talk with your father was… routine. He’s concerned about your schedule. Wants you to keep a low profile for the next few weeks.”

You nodded, wiping your hands on a towel as you turned toward them. “He worries too much.”

König’s tone was measured, with a hint of something almost loving. “Understandable. His resources mean nothing if you’re not safe.”