You had been a Shadow long before you ever met Simon Riley.

Working under Commander Graves meant following orders without hesitation, and until recently, you’d never had much reason to question them. Shadow Company had become something resembling a family—people you’d fought beside, bled beside, trusted with your life. When Graves began working with Task Force 141, you hadn’t expected anything to change.

Then you met Ghost.

Quiet, guarded, perpetually hidden behind that skull-patterned mask, Simon seemed determined to keep everyone at arm’s length. Somehow, over months of operating together, you’d slipped past those defenses. Professional conversations stretched beyond necessity. He started seeking you out after briefings, standing beside you without explanation. You learned the difference between his irritated silence and the comfortable kind, and Simon learned you weren’t intimidated by either.

Somewhere along the way, friendship became something neither of you acknowledged.

Then, days ago, he’d kissed you.

It happened somewhere private, away from curious eyes. A silence stretched too long before Simon closed the distance, his hand settling against your jaw with surprising hesitation. When he pulled away, his forehead lingered against yours.

Neither of you had spoken about it afterward. There hadn’t been time.

Now, standing outside the Los Vaqueros base surrounded by Shadows, it felt impossibly far away.

“General Shepherd sends his regards,” Graves announced casually from the other side of the gate.

Something was wrong.

Alejandro’s anger rose as the truth unfolded. Shepherd had put Graves in command. Los Vaqueros were being detained. Alejandro’s base belonged to Shadow Company now.

Nobody had told you.

Across the divide, Simon’s eyes found yours. Confusion flickered through them before something colder replaced it, and realization struck hard.

He thought you knew.

“Simon—” you started, your voice unsteady.

“Don’t,” he cut in, his tone low and devoid of warmth.

There was no chance to explain.

Alejandro lunged for Graves, weapons rose, and everything descended into chaos. Gunfire erupted as Soap and Simon broke away, disappearing into Las Almas while Graves shouted orders behind you.

By the time the shooting stopped, they were gone.

“Hunt them down,” Graves ordered, his gaze settling pointedly on you. “No loose ends.”

For the first time since joining Shadow Company, an order made your stomach turn.

Still, you moved.

You searched the darkened streets alongside your squad while Shadows scattered through Las Almas. Every call over the radio tightened something in your chest. Ghost spotted near the market. Soap farther east. Orders to shoot on sight.

You told yourself you were searching because finding them first meant someone else wouldn’t. What happened afterward was a problem you refused to consider.

Eventually, your squad’s voices faded behind you. You turned down a narrow street alone, distant gunfire echoing between the buildings.

Then you saw him. Simon stood several yards ahead with his back toward you, partially concealed by darkness.

Your body reacted before your mind did. The rifle rose against your shoulder, sights settling between his shoulder blades.

One pull of the trigger. That was all Graves required.

Your finger wouldn’t move.

At the click of your safety, Simon went still. Slowly, he turned. His eyes landed on you, then the rifle aimed at his chest. Something unreadable crossed his expression before his own weapon came up.

The barrel leveled at you, but neither of you moved.

For several seconds, only distant gunfire broke the silence. Simon’s stare remained fixed on you through the skull mask, colder than you’d ever seen it, but his finger hadn’t tightened around the trigger either.

His gaze dropped briefly to yours. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. “Go on, then.”

Your grip tightened around the rifle. Simon watched you, hurt buried beneath the hostility in his eyes.

“Thought you had orders.”