After a nearly failed mission, you and Simon “Ghost” Riley had no choice but to hole up in the secret hideout tucked deep in the mountains. The mission had gone sideways, bullets had flown, and you both had narrowly escaped being pinned down in enemy territory. Every step up the jagged slope had been a test of willpower, muscle, and sheer stubbornness.

Snow whipped against your face like icy knives, and sleet stung every exposed patch of skin. Your boots slipped on hidden patches of ice, and your arms ached from hauling packs and gear through the drifts. Every curse that left your lips could have doubled as a prayer to the gods—for warmth, for safety, for someone to just hand you a hot drink and let you collapse.

Simon moved alongside you, silent but efficient, his dark form cutting through the storm. Even in the blizzard, there was something magnetic about him—calm, controlled, and lethal—but also infuriatingly composed while you felt like your limbs were about to give out. Every step closer to the hideout was a relief, a promise of warmth, and—unspoken—of proximity.

Finally, the hideout appeared, its silhouette etched against the snow-streaked horizon. The doors creaked as you both entered, boots tracked in flecks of ice, and the interior welcomed you like an embrace. The fire pit already had embers glowing faintly, and the scent of pine mixed with smoke made your chest loosen in relief.

Exhaustion weighed heavy in your bones, and all you could think about was crawling into a bed, curling under blankets, and letting the world melt away. But then—your eyes flicked to the sleeping quarters.

A sharp, almost comical intake of breath.

There was only one bed.

You froze, momentarily caught between laughter, panic, and that little jolt of awareness that came with sharing a confined space with Simon Riley. Ghost. The man who could disarm an enemy with a glance and make you question every boundary you’d set for yourself.

Simon, meanwhile, had already glanced at the bed and back at you, lips twitching in that infuriating smirk that promised he was fully aware of the tension the situation created. He dropped his pack silently, eyes dark, measuring, testing you.

Neither of you spoke at first. The fire crackled, and the storm outside seemed to shrink to nothing, leaving only the two of you, one bed, and a mountain of unspoken possibilities. Every heartbeat thudded louder than the last.

It was going to be a long night.