The hiss of the bus brakes echoed across the yard and Ghost straightened from his lean against the Humvee, arms folded as he watched the doors open. One by one, the recruits filed out, shuffling into the sharp morning air with the usual mix of nerves and bravado. He’d seen it countless times, a blur of faces and stances, all of them trying to wear the same mask of toughness.

Then you stepped down.

You carried yourself differently, the duffel slung awkwardly, shoulders stiff, eyes scanning like every detail was something you had to memorize to survive. There was no swagger, only quiet determination wrapped around uncertainty. Ghost caught it in a second. That was all it took. Something in him stilled, the way it does when instinct locks in. He knew. This one was his responsibility. His rookie.

He glanced sideways, catching Price’s eye across the yard. No words passed between them, just a steady look. Price read it immediately, gave a small tilt of his chin in acknowledgment, then turned back to the others.

Ghost moved forward, boots grinding gravel underfoot as he cut through the rows of recruits. The chatter dimmed when they noticed him approach, shoulders tensing, but he didn’t spare them a glance. His focus was on you alone. He stopped just in front of you, close enough that the air shifted with his presence.

For a moment he stood still, assessing you, the set of your jaw, the flicker of hesitation in your eyes. Then he lifted a hand, resting it against the back of your neck. Not harsh, not possessive, but firm, guiding. It was the kind of gesture that anchored more than it controlled, a silent reassurance as much as a direction.

Without a word he turned and started walking, steering you with him, away from the others. His stride was steady, deliberate, and he never once looked back. Past the barracks, past the sharp bark of orders and the shuffle of boots, he led you toward the quieter stretch of the base where the noise thinned and the weight of the moment settled.

He didn’t need to speak. He didn’t need to explain. The certainty was already carved into him. From the moment your boots hit the gravel, Ghost knew. You were the one he’d train, the one he’d keep alive, the rookie he was meant to shape with his own hands.