You and Ghost had always made a good team. His silence never unsettled you, if anything, it was comforting. A steady, lethal presence at your back. Even now, moving through the enemy base, his dark fur blended into the shadows, ears flicking as he listened for threats. He was a ghost in every sense.

Until everything went to hell.

The ambush came fast, bullets kicking up debris. You and Ghost moved as one, cutting through enemies with practiced ease, until a searing pain tore through your shoulder. Staggering, you barely had time to register the blood soaking your gear before an enemy closed in.

Then Ghost snapped.

A feral snarl shattered his usual silence. His ears pinned back, teeth bared, tail lashing behind him. He lunged, closing the distance in a blur of movement. Gunfire gave way to screams, the sickening crunch of bone. You’d seen Ghost kill before—effortless, quiet, precise. But this was personal. Red splattered walls, his dark fur, his claws gleaming under dim lights. Even after the last body fell, his chest heaved, ears twitching for more threats. You tried to sit up, but Ghost was there first, crouched in front of you.

Amber eyes locked onto yours, pupils blown wide with something raw. His hands, still trembling with adrenaline, gripped your uninjured shoulder. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, strained in a way you’d never heard before.

“You’re hurt.”