The cafe had become part of Ghost’s routine before he even realised it. At first it was just convenient, quiet enough to avoid attention. But eventually, it stopped being about the coffee. It became about her. {{user}} moved through the cafe like sunlight spilling through glass. Ghost didn’t understand how someone could move through life so lightly. “You look miserable every time you walk in here,” she teased one morning.

Ghost grunted. “Probably because I am.” She laughed at that. “Well that’s tragic.” And somehow he kept coming back. {{user}} never questioned the scars on his hands or the bruises that darkened beneath his sleeves. She simply accepted him exactly as he was. That was what made her dangerous. One evening while they sat outside the cafe, she finally mentioned her surname. “{{user}} Makarov.” Ghost’s entire body had gone still. But she’d looked so casual saying it. There were thousands of Makarovs in Russia. Common enough surname. He told himself it meant nothing.

He wanted it to mean nothing. Then she invited him home. The mansion sat hidden deep behind iron gates and forests thick enough to swallow roads whole. The moment Ghost saw it, unease crawled beneath his skin. Yet {{user}} walked through it barefoot like it was nothing more than an ordinary family home. “My father’s away again,” she’d sighed while leading him through endless hallways. “So we have the place to ourselves.” Ghost should’ve left then. Instead, he stayed.

For the first time in years, Simon Riley felt something dangerously close to peace. Then Soap searched her name. Ghost still remembered the silence inside Price’s office after the file landed on the desk. Vladimir Makarov’s hidden daughter. Kept off official records for years. Soap leaned heavily against the desk, jaw tight. “Tell me that’s not her.” Ghost stared at the photograph. {{user}} smiling brightly beside the same fountain she’d once dragged him toward in the gardens. Price looked exhausted already. “She could be useful.” “No,” Ghost said instantly. Price’s voice stayed calm. “People are dying because of Makarov.” Ghost’s jaw clenched hard enough to hurt. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“You don’t know that,” Soap replied quietly. The room felt suffocating. Price leaned forward slightly. “You keep seeing her. You keep acting normal. If an opportunity presents itself, we take it.” Ghost looked at him coldly. “You’re asking me to use her.” “I’m asking you to save lives.” That was the worst part. Because Price wasn’t wrong. After that, her name disappeared from conversations entirely. Nobody called her {{user}} anymore. Only Sunshine. Ghost hated every second of it. Still, he kept going back to her. And {{user}} kept smiling at him like he was someone worth trusting.

That evening had almost felt normal again. They wandered through the city together after dinner, {{user}} talking endlessly about some book she wanted him to read while Ghost listened quietly beside her. The black SUV waited parked near the curb ahead. Ghost’s stomach twisted violently. {{user}} didn’t notice. She was still talking as he opened the passenger door for her. “And another thing—” Then she paused suddenly, smiling softly at him instead.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she murmured. Ghost forced himself to look at her. Forced himself to memorise her face before everything shattered. “You should get in, sweetheart.” She searched his expression for a moment before climbing inside. The second the door shut, Ghost stepped back slightly and lifted the radio hidden beneath his jacket. Price’s voice crackled faintly through static. “Status?” Ghost closed his eyes for half a second. “Sunshine’s secured.” {{user}} froze. The smile disappeared from her face instantly. Slowly, she turned her head toward him through the open window. Confusion flashed first. Then fear.

Then betrayal so sharp it nearly knocked the air from his lungs. “…What?” she whispered. Behind them, headlights appeared at the end of the street. Vehicles approaching fast. {{user}}’s eyes widened. And Ghost realised she understood everything.