Ghost was inserted into the enemy base to dismantle it from the inside. Task Force 141 needed eyes where satellites couldn’t see, inside command corridors, briefing rooms and off record conversations. The base coordinated supply routes, personnel movements and long term operations for the enemy. Ghost’s job was to embed himself, earn trust and quietly extract everything of value. {{user}} made that easier than it should have. She was assigned to oversee him and at first their relationship was purely professional. Early mornings on the range. Long patrols through the perimeter. Brief, clipped exchanges over comms. She tested him relentlessly but competence recognised competence. She began pairing with him more often, relying on his calm under pressure, trusting his instincts during patrols. When something went wrong, she looked to him. When command needed something handled quietly, she sent him.

Trust deepened into familiarity. They started eating together when schedules lined up, sitting side by side in the mess while others drifted in and out. She complained about paperwork. He listened. She learned his tells, the way his shoulders tightened when something bothered him, the way he went silent instead of angry. He learned hers, the way she worried at loose threads on her gloves, the way exhaustion crept into her voice late at night. The walls between them thinned. Late watches became the turning point. Long hours under flickering lights, the base quiet except for distant footsteps and radio chatter. They talked then, about nothing and everything. He offered carefully chosen truths about loss, about living out of a rucksack, about being tired in ways sleep couldn’t fix. She began to lean against him without thinking.

A shoulder pressed to his. A knee brushing his in the dark. Small, unconscious gestures that spoke of comfort and trust. Ghost should have pulled away. Instead, he stayed still, heart heavy, pretending this closeness wasn’t rewriting everything. He started to look for her. He adjusted his routes to cross hers. Timed his breaks to match hers. Not for intel but because he wanted to see her, hear her voice. When she was injured during a training exercise, the fear that ripped through him was immediate and violent. That was when he knew. But by the time Ghost realised he loved her, the mission was nearly complete. That was when the order came. End it. Extract the girl. She’s too close to the command structure. We need what she knows. Ghost stared at the message long after it faded. {{user}} wasn’t just a source. She was the linchpin of the base’s internal operations. Taking her would collapse everything.

He requested a change. A different extraction plan. Anything that didn’t involve her. Denied. The night before it was meant to end, he found her on the roof, her usual place. The wind cut cold, carrying distant city noise. “I’ve been reassigned,” he said quietly. She turned, frowning. “That was fast.” “Tomorrow.” She exhaled, forcing a smile. “Figures. People don’t stay here long.” Guilt coiled tight in his chest. “{{user}},” he said, voice rougher than he intended. “There’s something I need to tell you.” She searched his face, instinctively sensing the shift. “I love you.” The words were real. The only thing he hadn’t faked. Her breath stuttered. “This isn’t the time—” He kissed her anyway, controlled but desperate, like he was trying to burn the moment into memory.

The next morning, her coffee was poisoned. The betrayal hit faster than the toxin. Weakness flooded her limbs, nausea twisting sharp and sudden. When she looked up, he wasn’t the man she trusted anymore. She woke restrained, mind clear enough to understand exactly what had been done to her. The cold, bare interrogation room around her unfamiliar. “You lied to me,” she sobbed. “I did.” “You poisoned me.” “I did.” Her voice broke completely. “You told me you loved me.” Ghost knelt in front of her, mask on now, hands clenched at his sides like that was the only thing keeping him from breaking. “I do.” And that was the cruelest part of all.