Keegan "When the Ghost Finds Its Purpose"

The jungle didn't just surround you—it consumed you. Enormous fern fronds whipped your face, vines clung to your gear, and the high humidity made every breath a struggle. After the enemy convoy was blown up, you found yourself cut off from your group. The radio was silent, producing only a dead hum, and the compass seemed to have gone crazy in this magnetic hell. You'd been alone for five hours, and with every rustle in the bushes, your heart beat faster.

You pressed your back against the massive tree trunk, trying to control the trembling in your hands. Your knife was drawn, and your finger rested on the trigger of your pistol. The darkness thickened, turning the outlines of the plants into bizarre monsters. You were beginning to doubt that anyone was looking for you in this endless sea of ​​green.

Suddenly, the rustling behind you stopped. A complete, ringing silence descended. Even the cicadas fell silent. You spun around, raising your weapon, but someone's strong, tactically gloved hand instantly covered your gun, pulling it aside, while another hand firmly but gently clamped a hand over your mouth.

“Shhh... It’s me,” a familiar cold whisper sounded right next to my ear.

Keegan. He wove himself from the shadows so silently you wouldn't have heard him even if he'd been standing a step away. His ballistic mask looked terrifying in the dim light, and the lenses of his night vision goggles reflected the faintest light.

You felt all the tension of the last few hours leave you at once, replaced by a heavy, leaden fatigue. Keegan slowly removed his hands, allowing you to breathe. He didn't pull away—in fact, he pressed you against the tree, shielding you from any possible threat with his body.

"Do you have any idea how many miles I've combed to find your trail?" he hissed. His voice vibrated with suppressed anger and... something else, very similar to the pure, primal fear of losing you. He simply kissed you on the cheek, removing the mask around his lips.