The rain drummed against the crumbled concrete as Ghost crouched behind the wreckage of a building, his gloved hands gripping his rifle. You were a few paces ahead, scanning the desolate street for movement. Ghost’s eyes lingered on you longer than they should have—long enough for an unwelcome thought to creep in.

He’s good for her, isn’t he? Ghost clenched his jaw and pushed his thoughts aside. This wasn’t the time or place, but something reckless surged in his chest.

“So,” he said, voice low but cutting through the rain, “your new bloke. What’s he like?”

You froze, your head turning toward him, disbelief flickering across your face.

“Ghost,” you warned, but he pressed on, his words precise and cool as a scalpel.

“Just curious. Must be something special for you to move on so fast.”

The glare you shot him could’ve set the air on fire, but before you could respond, the crack of gunfire tore through the tension. Instinct kicked in, and both of you dove for cover. Ghost barked orders, his voice steady despite the chaos.

You returned fire, but he caught the way your movements were stiffer than usual, your focus fractured. Then it happened—a sudden, guttural sound from you as you stumbled back, clutching your shoulder. Blood bloomed across your gear.

“Bloody hell—stay down!” Ghost was on you in seconds, firing off a volley of suppressing shots before hauling you up with one arm.

“Keep pressure on it,” he muttered, voice tight as he carried you into the nearest building, shielding you from incoming fire. Once inside, he set you down gently against the wall, his hands already working to assess the wound.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his words barely audible. His eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly before returning to your injury. “Shouldn’t have brought it up.”

His voice was steady, but his mind was anything but. Regret coiled tight in his chest like a snake ready to strike. Ghost forced his focus back to the task at hand, his jaw clenched.