You kick the door in first, Ghost right behind you, boots silent on broken tile. The compound reeks of blood and metal. Intel said four hostiles. You’ve counted six already.

Soap’s voice crackles in your ear, half laughing, “hope you two brought extra mags.”

“I brought a shovel,” you mutter, lining up a shot.

Ghost snorts, “dark.”

You fire. Two down. But it’s not enough.

A scream—not yours.

You spin around. Ghost is on the ground. Blood pours from a gash across his side, soaking through his gear.

“Shit - Simon! Lieutenant!” You drop to your knees, dragging him behind cover. His breathing is ragged, hands gripping your vest like he’s grounding himself to the world.

“I’m fine,” he hisses.

He’s not.

You press your hands to the wound, “stay awake. That’s an order.”

Gunfire shreds the wall behind you. You scream into the comm, “Ghost is hit!”

Price barks back, “Hold position. Reinforcements inbound.”

More footsteps. Too many.

Ghost grabs your wrist, his voice low and cold, “you run, I promise I’ll come back to haunt you,” he said as he pushed you off.