Laughter echoed around the room as Gaz tossed another chip into his mouth, his feet propped up on the edge of Soap’s coffee table. Ghost grumbled something about his terrible taste in movies, but the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement all the same. Even Soap was uncharacteristically mellow, stretched out on the couch with a lazy grin plastered on his face.

The night was good. Normal. The kind of normal they rarely got.

His phone vibrated against his leg. Gaz fished it out of his pocket, still smirking at whatever joke Soap had just thrown his way. The screen lit up with your name and the text you sent.

“Someone’s standing outside the window.”

The smile slipped right off his face.

“What’s up?” Soap asked, noticing the sudden shift.

“Gotta go.” Gaz’s voice was tight, strained. He was already on his feet, shoving his phone into his pocket as he grabbed his jacket.

Ghost’s gaze sharpened, his attention now fully locked on Gaz. “Something wrong?”

“Maybe. Just—” His words trailed off, a tightness coiling in his chest. Worry laced every syllable. “I’ll explain later.”

He was out the door before either of them could press further, his pulse pounding in his ears. You hadn’t answered his other texts. No response. Just silence.

Every red flag imaginable went off in his mind, his thoughts a tangled mess of worst-case scenarios.

The drive to your place was a blur. His hands clenched the steering wheel hard enough to hurt, his eyes fixed on the road with a deadly intensity.

When he finally reached your place, he barely remembered to kill the engine before bolting out of the car. His eyes scanned the exterior, searching for anything—anyone—that looked out of place.

His jaw clenched, muscles coiled tight. Whoever thought they could mess with you was in for a hell of a surprise. And if you were hurt... God help them.

He reached your door, his heart slamming against his ribs as he fumbled with the keys, ready for anything. Anything to make sure you were safe.