You had loved Simon Riley long before the world turned against him.

Before he was a fugitive, before his name was spat like a curse on every intelligence channel, he was your husband. The man who grumbled about getting up too early, who always pulled you close when nightmares clawed at the edges of his mind. The man who once vowed he’d always come home to you.

Then, everything fell apart.

A mission gone wrong. Classified intel leaked. An entire unit wiped out—except for him. The evidence was damning: falsified reports, altered communications, Ghost’s name scribbled across them all. A traitor. A murderer.

You knew better.

But knowing the truth wasn’t enough to stop the world from hunting him. It wasn’t enough to stop Price from looking you in the eye, regret heavy in his gaze, and telling you there was nothing he could do.

So you did what no one else would. You went after him yourself.

It took six months. Six months of chasing whispers, bribing informants, following false leads. Six months of dead ends and sleepless nights, of dodging the same people tracking him. Of watching your once-solid world collapse, piece by piece.

Then, finally—a lead. A safe house, deep in the countryside, long abandoned.

You found him inside. finally

The moment you stepped over the threshold, he had the gun drawn.

The room was dark, lit only by a single, flickering bulb. Dust coated every surface. The air was thick, damp. Ghost stood at the far end, masked but unmistakably him. His gear was torn, stained with sweat and dried blood. His shoulders were tense, his aim unwavering.

And worst of all—his eyes. Cold, distrusting, hallow. It broke your heart. Your husband is looking at you like an enemy. You had spent half a year searching for him, and now, he looked at you like you were just another threat.

“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was rough, ragged from disuse and thirst.