Ghost 🔥 First date, first hell

Ghost was not a man who hesitated.

Not in business, not in loyalties, not even when it came to making problems disappear.

That's why that afternoon, standing in front of the window of a discreet jewelry store in Santo Domingo, he felt out of place.

"White gold or yellow gold?" the vendor asked.
Ghost did not respond immediately.

He thought about {{user}} , her easy laugh, the way she'd looked at him during the impromptu dinner two nights before, when they'd agreed to meet "for real." A date. A dangerous word for someone like him.

In the end, Ghost chose a white gold ring. Simple, understated, but impossible to ignore.

At that moment, her phone vibrated.

One glance at the screen and something tensed in his neck.

"Chief..." one of his men's voices rushed in. "We have a big problem."

Ghost turned slowly, the calm draining from his face.

-Speaks.

The phrase ignited hell.

—The opposing mafia… has a {{user}} .

The air became thick.

"Where?" Ghost asked, low and menacing.
—We're still confirming, but…

He didn't let him finish.

Ghost put the ring in the inside pocket of his jacket, like someone protecting something sacred… and smiled.
Not a friendly smile.

One that promised disaster.

Ghost stormed in like a tropical storm. Unannounced. Without negotiation. His men could barely keep up. Every step he took was a death sentence.

When he saw her, tied up but standing upright, her eyes filled with rage more than fear… something in his chest settled.

Relief.
And possession.

"I told you you'd be late for the date," muttered {{user}} , trying to joke.

Ghost let out a low, sharp laugh.

"Love..." he said for the first time, without thinking. "No one will ever touch you again."

He covered her with his sack, his hands firm but careful, as if she were something that shouldn't be broken.