He should’ve known.

Ever since you came along, everything they worked for went stale — botched missions, fake intel, ambushes. And the list went on.

And it all began when you joined. He should’ve fucking known.

But no, you had snuck your way into his life, into his heart — all that sweet talk, honeyed words, all that time spent together. All of it was just a cruel, twisted joke played on him.

He believed you’d be something more, something more than a mere traitor in his ranks. But he was a fool, it seems.

“I can’t believe it,” Ghost mused bitterly as he barged into your office, voice dripping with venom as the door slammed shut behind him. “You’re working with Makarov.”

His hand slammed against the desk before you, rustling the paper scattered across the surface, eyes narrowing behind his mask. “I trusted you. Traitor.”