Simon Riley was good at disappearing.

It was a skill you learned quickly when you lived the kind of life he did—covert operations, enemies that didn’t stay buried, and a reputation that made people dangerous when they got curious enough.

But this time was different.

Someone had been digging.

Not just rumors through the usual channels. Real information. Patterns in missions. Sightings. Pieces of his identity that were never meant to surface.

Ghost was supposed to be a shadow.

Untouchable. Untraceable.

Yet somehow someone had gotten close enough that command didn’t want to take chances anymore.

Price had been the one to say it outright.

Ghost needed to disappear.

Not on base. Not with Task Force 141. Not anywhere tied to the military. If someone was tracking him, the safest move was to vanish somewhere no one would ever think to look.

Somewhere even his own team couldn’t follow.

The problem was… Simon Riley didn’t really have anywhere to go.

No home waiting for him.

No family.

Just one person.

You.

The knock on your door came late.

Too late for visitors.

The quiet neighborhood had settled into that deep stillness after midnight—no cars passing, no voices drifting through the street. Just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the ticking clock on your kitchen wall.

Then the knock came again. Slow. Heavy.

Certain.

You frowned as you crossed the living room, bare feet quiet against the floor. No one ever came by this late.

When you opened the door, your breath caught.

Simon Riley stood on your porch.

Or… Ghost.

Tall. Broad shoulders filling the doorway. Dressed in dark civilian clothes that didn’t quite hide the soldier beneath them. A worn duffle bag rested in one gloved hand.

The familiar skull mask covered his face.

Of course it did.

You hadn’t seen him in months.

Simon didn’t visit often.

Actually… he never visited.

Not like this.

For a moment neither of you spoke. The porch light cast a pale glow across the skull pattern of his mask as his dark eyes studied you quietly.

The same eyes you’d known since childhood.

You and Simon had grown up together on the same street. Same school. Same years spent learning each other’s habits, tempers, silences.

Somewhere along the way, things had changed.

Feelings had crept in—slow, unspoken, stubborn.

Neither of you had ever said it out loud.

But it had always been there.

Simon shifted slightly, the duffle bag strap tightening in his grip. His posture was calm, but something about the tension in his shoulders felt tighter tonight.

“Need a place to stay,” he finally said, voice low behind the mask.

That was it.

No greeting. No explanation.

Just those words.

Your brows pulled together slightly. “Simon—”

“Just for a bit,” he cut in quietly.

Not sharp. Not angry.

Just firm.

His gaze flicked past you into the warm glow of your house before returning to your face.

For a second, you saw something rare in his eyes.

Hesitation.

Simon Riley didn’t hesitate.

You crossed your arms lightly, studying him. “You gonna tell me why?”

Silence stretched between you.

Simon exhaled slowly.

“Things got… complicated,” he said at last.

Vague. Deliberately vague.

Which was honestly the most explanation he’d ever given you about his work.

But the way he stood there—showing up unannounced, bag packed, asking for shelter—told you this wasn’t a normal visit.

You looked at him another moment before stepping aside, opening the door wider.

Simon didn’t move immediately.

His eyes lingered on you like he was measuring something.

Then he stepped inside.

The house suddenly felt smaller with him in it.

He set the duffle bag near the wall and glanced around the familiar space.

Your home.

The only place outside of Task Force 141 he’d ever felt remotely close to safe.

You leaned against the doorframe.

“So,” you said slowly.

Simon’s gaze shifted back to you.

“How long is ‘a bit’?”

He held your stare for a moment. Then his voice came quiet behind the mask.

“…Until they stop looking for me.”