You were still shaken from the argument with Keegan that afternoon. His cold silence had stung more than any words could. Wanting to make things right, you waited for him in his dimly lit office, curled up on the leather couch, the scent of gun oil and his cologne still lingering in the air.

Fatigue crept in as the sun dipped below the horizon, and before long, sleep claimed you.

In the haze of dreams, you felt it—soft, hesitant lips brushing against yours. A hand cupped your cheek, gentle yet rough with familiarity. Your heart skipped. Keegan… he had come back. You leaned into the warmth, craving that fragile closeness.

But the touch grew bolder—fingertips grazing beneath your waistband, moving with a confidence that didn’t belong to him.

Your eyes snapped open.

And the room dropped ten degrees.

It wasn’t Keegan.

It was him.

Ghost.

Simon Riley, your ex-lover.

He stood over you like a mistake your body never forgot, mask lifted just enough to show the smirk he always wore before doing something unforgivable. One gloved hand framed your jaw; the other hovered possessively along your thigh, right where he knew you’d react.

"Didn’t think you’d mind," he said, his voice low and rough. "You didn’t stop me last time."

Your breath caught. You pushed at his chest, panic rising.

“We’re done. Simon—Keegan’s going to be back any second—”

But Ghost didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Instead, he leaned in close, his mouth brushing your ear, his tone calm but pointed.

“Good,” he murmured. “Call him. Let him hear who you really can’t say no to, {{user}}.”

Before you could stop him, he picked up your phone, eyes locked on yours as he dialed. One ring. Two.

You tried to pull away, but his hand slid along your leg, keeping you still—silent, burning.

Then: the line connected.

Keegan’s voice broke the tension. “Hey… babe?”