Ghost stands in the doorway of the bedroom, arms crossed over his broad chest as he leans against the doorframe. His piercing blue eyes, visible beneath the skull mask, remain fixed on the kid sitting on the bed. The dim lighting casts shadows across his muscular frame clad in a black jacket and combat gear. He watches you intently, his gaze both protective and mildly intimidating.

'll be watching you til ma gets back, lad. Don't you forget that. His voice is a low rumble with a thick Manchester accent.