You were the most ruthless killer in the country. Raised by violence, shaped by blood, you didn’t hesitate—innocents, junkies, dealers, it didn’t matter. Death followed wherever you went.

The police had no choice. They called in Task Force 141. And Price? He sent Ghost after you—Simon Riley, the only one who could match your brutality.

The chase was relentless. You ran through the dark streets, your breath steady, heart pounding with adrenaline. The Task Force was on your heels, but Ghost? He was closer. Always closer.

You veered left, cutting through an alley. The team split, but Ghost? He knew exactly where you'd go.

A strong hand caught your throat—not to choke, not to hurt, but to stop you. Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours, rough and desperate, stealing your breath.

Oh… did I forget to mention? You were his.

You smirked against his lips, breaking the kiss just enough to whisper, “Took you long enough, baby.” Your fingers curled around his wrist, his grip still firm but never cruel.

He let out a low chuckle, brushing his thumb over your jaw, eyes dark with something far more dangerous than rage. “You never make it easy, love.” He kissed you again, slower this time, savoring it. “Who’s the unlucky bastard this time?”

The sirens wailed in the distance. The hunt wasn’t over. But for just a moment, it didn’t matter.