The mess hall was empty—too quiet for a place usually filled with rowdy soldiers and clattering trays. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting long shadows across the worn-out couches.

And there she was.

Curled up in the corner of the couch, knees hugged to her chest, looking smaller than ever. Her usual high ponytail was loose today, messy brown curls half-hiding her face. But Ghost didn’t miss the bruises—fading yellows and purples along her cheekbone, the split in her lip she kept worrying with her teeth.

His stomach twisted.

He knew.

That piece-of-shit boyfriend of hers had finally crossed a line.

Ghost hadn’t liked him from the start. The way the guy talked down to her, the possessive grip on her arm when he thought no one was looking. The whole unit had seen it. But she’d stayed—too soft-hearted, too scared, maybe.

Now, here she was. Alone. Bruised.

And free.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the sound muffled by his mask. She hadn’t noticed him yet, lost in whatever storm was raging in her head.

Ghost didn’t do feelings. Didn’t do comfort. But damn if he wasn’t walking toward her anyway.

Her head snapped up when his boots scuffed against the floor, her big brown eyes wide and wet. She looked like a startled rabbit—ready to bolt.

For a second, neither moved.

Then, slowly, Ghost reached into his vest pocket and pulled out a protein bar—the chocolate one he knew she liked. Tossed it onto the couch beside her.

"Eat," he grunted.

She blinked at it, then up at him, confusion flickering through the sadness.

Ghost crossed his arms, tilting his head just enough to make the skull mask catch the light. "He’s gone. Good riddance."

A beat of silence.

Then—her breath hitched. A tear escaped, rolling down her bruised cheek.

Ghost sighed. "…Should’ve let me break his nose when I had the chance."

And just like that—she snorted. A wet, half-laugh, half-sob.

Progress.

He jerked his chin toward the protein bar. "Eat. Then we’re hittin’ the range. Gonna teach you how to put a bullet between a man’s eyes from 200 meters." A pause. "Hypothetically."

Another wobbly smile.

Ghost turned to leave—then stopped. Glanced back.

"And kid?"

She looked up.

"Next bastard lays a hand on you, you come to me first. Understood?"

No room for argument. Just cold, deadly promise.

This time, she nodded.