Blood. Sweat. Tears.

You had no idea if you would make it out of this in one piece—if any of you would.

You had lost contact with everyone hours ago, or at least it felt like hours. The passage of time was meaningless in this hell. The last time you saw Ghost, he was hastily tying a makeshift bandage around his arm amidst the rubble of a building destroyed by a grenade blast. You didn’t know if he made it. You didn’t know if anyone made it.

Now, as you stood in the ruins of a burning building, your breaths came in shallow gasps, the suffocating heat and smoke filling your lungs. Sweat and dirt clung to your skin, and every muscle in your body screamed for relief. You knew, deep down, that this was the end. There was no way out.

The smoke thickened, clouding your vision and stealing the precious air you needed to survive. Your knees buckled, and the world tilted as darkness threatened to take you. This was it.

But just as you began to fall, two strong, trembling arms scooped you up from the ground. You couldn’t tell if it was real, if you were dreaming, or if this was the final illusion before the end.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep on me, you hear?” Ghost’s voice was hoarse and unsteady, but there was a desperation in it that cut through the haze clouding your mind. His mask was smeared with ash and blood, and his movements were strained, but he didn’t stop.

The building groaned as it began to collapse behind you, but he didn’t falter. Not until he had carried you to safety.

"You’re all that matters to me," he murmured as he crouched down, his hands trembling as he cradled your face. "Stay with me."