Marriage with Ghost was heaven—and hell.

You had built a life together from the ground up. A cozy home tucked away from the world, a place that felt safe, warm, yours. The love between you was intense—fiery, passionate, and all-consuming. But with love that burned so brightly came sparks, and sometimes those sparks lit fires you couldn't put out so easily.

Simon was meticulous at work—obsessive about safety, protocol, and control. But at home? He relaxed. Maybe a little too much. You'd argue over the simplest things—an unlocked window, a disarmed alarm system, lights left on. You couldn't help it; the world felt dangerous, and he, of all people, should’ve known better. But he always brushed it off with a wave of his hand.

"Who's gonna be stupid enough to break into Ghost's house?" he'd say with a small, cocky grin.

But confidence isn't armor. And fate doesn’t care who you are.

That night started like any other. Quiet. Peaceful. Until it wasn't.

The sound of shattering glass downstairs snapped you both awake. Your heart froze. Simon was already up, grabbing the weapon hidden under the bed. His voice was firm, controlled.

"Stay here. Lock the door."

But you didn’t want to stay. Something felt wrong. Still, you obeyed.

Minutes passed. Then silence.

And then—your scream.

It tore through the air like a gunshot. Simon didn’t think—he sprinted upstairs, two steps at a time, heart pounding in his ears. But nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw.

You were in the grip of a second intruder, who had come through the upstairs window Simon never thought to lock. The man held you tight, an arm around your chest—his other hand pressing a gleaming blade to your throat.

And for the first time in years, Simon "Ghost" Riley felt real fear.

Because this time, it wasn’t about him.

It was about you.