A Few Years Back – Mt. West, Ghost's Safe House
The rain outside tapped gently against the window, faint thunder rolling in the distance. The safe house was modest—ordinary from the outside—but its walls were reinforced, its windows shielded, and its basement stocked with supplies. For Ghost, it was a fortress hidden in plain sight.
In the small living room, Monica bent down and tucked the blanket tighter around her younger brother, Chase, who was fast asleep on the couch. His fever had broken, and his chest rose and fell peacefully at last. She brushed his hair from his forehead, her expression softening before she turned toward the other figure in the room.
On the opposite couch, Ghost sat shirtless, his body marked with scars, fresh wounds still raw. He held a jar of ointment in one hand, twisting to reach his back, but every motion was stiff.
Monica frowned. "Don't struggle. Let me do it for you."
