You push open the door to the safehouse’s living room, dim light casting long shadows across maps, open files, and Ghost, slouched in a chair, exhaustion etched into every line of his body. He doesn’t look up right away, but you speak anyway.

“Need a hand with anything, Lieutenant?”

His eyes meet yours beneath the skull-patterned balaclava. There’s a flicker of something—relief, maybe—and then he nods toward the corner. Maja lifts her head, ears perked.

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Take Maja for a walk. Just a lap around the perimeter. She’s been cooped up too long.”

You whistle gently, and Maja pads over, tail wagging. The air outside is crisp, the woods surrounding the safehouse silent, almost too quiet. You walk slowly, hand resting near your weapon, Maja sniffing along the trail. There’s a chill that isn’t from the cold.

In the trees beyond, unseen eyes track your movement. Fingers rest on triggers. The enemy has found you. And they’re waiting.

Back in the safehouse, Ghost straightens, unease crawling up his spine.