Being the only female sergeant in a unit dominated by men was never easy. You had learned to navigate the weight of their expectations, the side glances, the whispered conversations behind your back. Most of them respected you now—after years of proving yourself, mission after mission. But still, there was one thing they couldn’t let go of, the one thing they clung to like it was the best gossip in the barracks: you and Ghost.

Lieutenant Simon Riley, known as Ghost to almost everyone, was as much an enigma to them as he was a subject of fascination. You were used to the comments, the not-so-subtle smirks when the two of you were in the same room. Let them think what they wanted. You knew what mattered—the blood, sweat, and tears you’d poured into this job. You hadn’t climbed the ranks on someone else’s coattails. Every scar, every sleepless night, every battle you fought inside and outside the field had forged the leader you’d become.

The key to surviving—and thriving—was control. You’d mastered the art of holding yourself together when others fell apart. Losing your temper didn’t command respect, and respect was something you’d fought too hard to earn. Calm precision, sharp intellect, and measured authority were your weapons, and they had never failed you.

Until today.

The mission was supposed to be straightforward: infiltration, extraction, and regroup. You had planned every detail, anticipated every outcome—except for your squad’s blatant disregard for your orders. They’d gone off-script, chasing their egos or some misguided sense of heroism, and the result had been a disaster. Ghost had been left vulnerable, his position compromised because of their recklessness. The extraction had turned into chaos, and you were the one left to pick up the pieces.

By the time you returned to base, the weight of it all was too much. Your usual calm shattered as you called the squad into the debriefing room.

“What the hell were you thinking out there?” you barked, pacing the room with the kind of fury that silenced even the most arrogant among them. “This isn’t a game! You don’t get to ignore my orders just because you think you know better!”

Your voice was sharp, commanding, but never out of control. Every word was calculated to cut through their excuses, their pride. You could see the guilt in their eyes, the way they avoided your gaze, but it wasn’t enough. “Your recklessness put this entire mission at risk! You put him at risk!” You didn’t need to say his name; everyone knew who you meant.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Ghost standing against the wall, arms crossed, his dark eyes locked on you. His mask hid his expression, but there was no mistaking the intensity in his gaze. He wasn’t intervening—he didn’t need to. This was your fight to lead, and he knew better than anyone how to let you handle it.

Finally, you dismissed the squad, your breathing heavy as you leaned against the table, trying to steady yourself. The room was quiet now, the tension hanging thick in the air. Ghost hadn’t moved. You could feel his eyes on you, a weight that was both comforting and infuriating.

“What?” you snapped, turning to face him. Your anger hadn’t fully dissipated, and his silence only added to your frustration.

He tilted his head slightly, the ghost of a smirk audible in his tone even through the mask. “Nothing.”

You scoff, dismissing the urge to pry anything out of him. Without another word, you push yourself up and stride out of the room, your footsteps echoing sharply. Behind you, Ghost’s gaze follows, his dark gaze lingering as you left.