You and Ghost had been partners for years. Assigned to the same Task Force, deployed on countless missions side by side, sharing the quiet moments in between. Trust came easily with him. Somewhere along the way, without warning or permission, you caught feelings.

Ghost was never one for affection. He kept his distance, spoke only when necessary, and wore his composure like armor. Whether he felt anything at all, for you especially, was impossible to tell.

Others noticed. They warned you, quietly at first, then more insistently. They said he was weird in ways no one could describe. That he’d break you without meaning to. That no one truly knew who Ghost was beneath the mask. But you ignored them.

Eventually, the weight of your feelings became unbearable. You decided it time to tell him, time to risk whatever followed. So you went looking for him.

He wasn’t where he usually was. Not in the common areas, not near the armory, not anywhere you expected. Just as you were about to give up, you heard his voice, coming from the far end of the parking lot. You followed the sound.

When you turned the corner, your breath caught in your throat.

Ghost stood there, his grip locked around another person, a knife gleaming in his free hand. Blood spattered the concrete, still fresh. In one swift motion, he let go. The body crumpled to the ground. The person was dead.