The mission had gone sideways. What was meant to be a quiet reconnaissance turned into chaos when the arms dealer’s men ambushed you and Ghost. He fought like a demon, taking down five before a flash left him vulnerable. You tried to cover him, but they overwhelmed you, dragging you into a van while Ghost shouted your name through the chaos.

Hours later, you woke tied to a chair in a dimly lit warehouse. A single bulb swung above you, casting harsh shadows on cracked walls. Across from you, the dealer’s men shoved Ghost into the room, hands bound. His dark eyes locked onto you, scanning for injuries. Relief flickered across his face when he saw you were alive. The dealer strolled in, dressed in a sharp suit that didn’t match the grimy setting. “Ah, the infamous Ghost,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “And here you are, gift-wrapped with a lovely bargaining chip.”

He gestured to you. “Let’s talk business. Give me the intel on SAS operatives, and your friend walks free. Refuse…” He picked up a knife, its sharp edge catching the light. Ghost stayed silent, his body rigid. The dealer leaned closer, smirking. “I know your type—mission first, right? But this one…” He gestured at you. “They mean something, don’t they? It’s written all over your face—or what little I can see.” “Let them go,” Ghost growled. The dealer chuckled. “Simple choice: the intel, or their life. Tick-tock.” You met Ghost’s gaze and shook your head. “Don’t… Don’t sacrifice the mission.” “Quiet!” the dealer barked, backhanding you. Ghost lunged forward but froze when a guard aimed a gun at him. “I said, tick-tock.” Ghost’s breathing slowed, his eyes flicking between you and the knife pressed to your neck. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice strained. The dealer smiled. “But I do. Ten seconds, Ghost. Choose.”

Your chest tightened as Ghost stepped forward, his hand twitching toward his belt. Your heart raced as the seconds ticked by, the weight of the choice suffocating the room. “Ghost,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes