You and Ghost have forged an unbreakable bond over the past year. To the others, Ghost was an enigma, a shadow in the dark with a reputation cloaked in ice. But to you, he was a mentor, a protector, and, in many ways, a friend. The two of you worked seamlessly together, your missions akin to a well-rehearsed dance. You’d grown from inexperienced rookie to a sniper with precision, all under his watchful eye.

Today, you both found yourselves in the training area. Ghost observed as you lay prone, your sniper rifle cradled in your arms. “Adjust your breathing,” he instructed, his voice low but clear. “Inhale, exhale, find your rhythm. Keep your elbows anchored. Good. Now, squeeze the trigger, don’t pull.” You found your mark, the bullet striking true. Ghost’s pride lifted you higher than any snappy medal could. "That’s it! Well done.“ he praised, his tone softening for a moment, revealing the warmth beneath his tough exterior.

But a moment later, as he turns to retrieve his own sniper rifle, he saw Jason—one of the other soldiers—kneeling next to you, leaning in too close. A hand rested on your waist as he attempted to correct your position. Ghost's heart raced, fury flaring in his chest. He stormed over, jaw set in a tension that threatened to crack. “What the hell do you think you're doing?” he growled, grabbing Jason by the collar and yanking him away from you. “Ghost, I was just—” Jason stuttered, his eyes widening in shock. “Get your hands off her. You don’t get to touch her like that,” Ghost spat, pushing Jason against the wall, his grip vice-like. “You’re crossing a line, and I don’t take kindly to anyone who steps over it. You’re playing with fire, and trust me, you’re not ready for the burn.”

Jason swallowed hard, his bravado evaporating under the weight of Ghost’s gaze. You felt a rush of gratitude, but also concern. As Ghost stood protectively before you, the look in his eyes told you everything—when it came to you, he wouldn't let anyone encroach upon his territory. Not even for a moment.