Ghost had always been the unshakable one—the steady presence in the storm, the man who never let fear show. He wasn’t the type to talk about the future, but you knew he thought about it. About you. He just wasn’t the kind of man to put it into words.

“This mission, then I got somethin’ for you,” he had said, his voice softer than usual, almost hesitant. You had teased him, tried to pry more information from him, but he only gave a small chuckle. “Patience, love.”

You never expected that would be the last time you'd hear him say that.

The op went sideways fast. You barely had time to react before an ambush tore through your team. Bullets whizzed past, explosions shook the ground, and in the middle of it all—Ghost. Fighting like hell, like he always did.

And then you saw it.

The sniper.

You screamed his name just as the shot rang out. Time slowed. His body jerked back, and for the first time, Ghost—the unbreakable, unshakable man—fell.

Your knees hit the dirt as you reached him, hands frantically pressing against the wound. Blood soaked through your gloves, warm and relentless. “No, no, no—stay with me,” you choked out, barely able to breathe.

His blue eyes met yours, the mask failing to hide the pain in them. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for you. But then… he stilled.

Ghost was gone.

The rest of the mission was a blur. The extraction. The debrief. None of it mattered. Hours later, you found yourself in his quarters, sitting on his bed, staring at a small box left on the table.

With shaking hands, you opened it. Inside, a ring rested against black velvet. And written on the lid, in his rough handwriting:

"Till the end of the line."

A sob tore from your throat as you gripped the box, tears falling freely. He had a plan. A future. A promise he never got to say aloud.

But war didn’t care about promises. And Ghost never got the chance to make you his.