Ghost needed some extra cash, so he reluctantly took on a job he never thought he’d do—babysitting. The client was a wealthy family in a massive, sprawling mansion, the kind with tall iron gates and marble floors that echoed every step. It wasn’t exactly the kind of place Ghost felt comfortable in, but money was money. Besides, he had no real choice; a week with a couple of kids would help him out of his current situation.

When Ghost first arrived, your adoptive parents didn’t waste any time. They had an important trip, something vague about business meetings overseas, and they were already running late. They barely greeted him before they rushed out, leaving him standing awkwardly in the grand entryway, the weight of the house closing in around him.

You, {{user}}, however, stayed in the far corner of the living room, leaning against the wall, your hood pulled low over your face. You’d been adopted into this life of privilege, but you never quite fit in. The marble floors, the chandeliers, the expensive art hanging on the walls—they weren’t your world. So you stayed quiet, out of sight, observing from the shadows, just like you always did.

Your five-year-old sister, Emma, however, was the complete opposite. She was a whirlwind of energy, dashing around the massive living room, her laughter echoing off the high ceilings. She had none of your brooding quietness. She didn’t see the shadows in the corners like you did. To her, Ghost was just another playmate, someone new to chase after her as she giggled and ran.

Ghost dropped his duffle bag by the door and scanned the room, his cold, calculating gaze landing on you for a moment before moving to the little girl. He was used to assessing situations quickly, used to danger lurking around every corner—but this? Babysitting? This was far from the battlefield he was accustomed to. But a week with some kids couldn't be too hard.