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BY ANY OTHER NAME

Chapter 6: Welcome Home

Summary: Some secrets refuse to stay buried. As unanswered questions begin to pile up and instincts grow harder to ignore, Task Force 141 finds itself chasing a mystery that seems determined to stay hidden. And someone in the shadows is always one step ahead.

Pairing: Poly!Tf141 x Reader [A/B/O]

Words: 12k

Warnings: mentions of attack, surveillence system installed without permission.

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Authors note: got carried away with the length sorry, and don't get mad about the ending hehehe

(I do NOT allow anyone stealing, translating,- imitating this work )

Don’t forget to reblog, like and comment!!

The next morning, the training grounds buzzed with the familiar rhythm of controlled chaos. Boots struck the packed dirt in uneven cadence as squads of recruits cycled through drills beneath the pale grey sky, the crisp autumn air carrying the sharp scent of damp earth, gun oil and fresh-cut grass across the range. Sweat mingled with the metallic tang of spent brass, while distant bursts of rifle fire echoed from neighboring firing lanes, punctuated every so often by barked orders from instructors keeping dozens of inexperienced soldiers in line.

Around the obstacle course, nervous excitement seeped from the younger recruits in subtle waves, their pheromones betraying anxieties they tried desperately to hide behind determined expressions.

Soap stood near the edge of the training field with his arms folded across his chest, watching another group struggle through the obstacle course. His Beta scent carried its familiar warm cedar, black tea and baked apples, though impatience had sharpened its edges every time another recruit repeated the same mistake.

"For the last time, use yer legs! Ye're climbin' a wall, no askin' it politely tae move."

A chorus of exhausted groans answered him before another recruit finally reached the top.

Only then did Soap notice a familiar face jogging back toward the formation.

The young private who had sliced his forearm on one of the metal obstacles nearly twenty minutes earlier slipped back into line, a fresh white bandage wrapped neatly beneath the rolled sleeve of his combat shirt.

The recruit beside him nudged his shoulder. "Took you long enough."

"Tell me about it." The bandaged soldier let out a tired laugh.

"What happened?"

"I went to Medical A first." He adjusted the dressing with an irritated grimace. "Complete waste of time."

"The nurse wasn't there?"

"Nah." He shrugged. "They told me she wasn't on duty today."

Soap's attention shifted almost immediately.

The recruit continued without noticing. "Apparently she's over in Medical Wing C. Got admitted this morning or something, so they sent me all the way across base instead."

The words barely left his mouth before the atmosphere around him changed.

Soap stopped moving and several metres away, Ghost slowly turned his head.

The training field continued around them exactly as before. Recruits climbed ropes, instructors shouted corrections and boots pounded against packed earth, but for Ghost and Soap every other sound seemed to disappear beneath those few simple sentences.

Ghost's voice sounded like a growl, low enough that the nearby recruits instinctively straightened. "What did you just say?"

The private swallowed. "I... I Wing A nurse was absent, sir. She was admitted in Medical Wing C, sir." He said in a trembling voice.

"Why?" Soap asked immediately.

"I don't know, Sergeant." The recruit shook his head. "One of the nurses just said she'd been brought in this morning."

Ghost stared at him for another heartbeat.

There was no visible emotion behind the skull mask, yet something about the stillness surrounding him caused the smell of cold rain settling over stone to deepen almost imperceptibly. His Alpha pheromones remained tightly controlled, but enough escaped to make several nearby recruits instinctively lower their gazes.

Without another word, Ghost turned. He was already walking away before Soap reacted.

Johnny glanced toward the obstacle course before pointing at one of the older recruits.

"Campbell."

"Sir." The corporal snapped to attention.

"You're in charge until we get back. Keep them on the obstacle course, then endurance laps. Anybody gets clever, make 'em run another five."

"Yes, Sergeant."

Soap didn't wait for another response, he jogged after Ghost, quickly falling into step beside him as they crossed the training grounds.

The further they moved from the exercise fields, the quieter the base became. The smell of damp soil and spent ammunition gradually disappeared beneath antiseptic, floor polish and freshly laundered uniforms drifting through the medical sector. White corridors stretched ahead beneath harsh fluorescent lights, their polished floors reflecting the silhouettes of passing nurses and orderlies.

Neither man spoke. They didn't need to.

Neither of them could smell you, they couldn't hear your heartbeat.Your suppressants erased every instinct an Alpha normally relied upon. And yet, something pulled at them.

Every step toward Medical Wing C tightened that feeling until it settled heavily beneath his ribs. Soap felt it too. His wolf paced restlessly beneath the surface, unable to explain why his pulse had quickened or why every instinct urged him to move faster.

The moment they stepped inside Wing C, the atmosphere changed.

Gone were the echoes of the training grounds and shouted orders carried across the parade square. Here, the corridors were quieter, lined with identical wooden doors bearing neat brass plaques that marked offices, storage rooms and treatment areas. The faint scent of disinfectant lingered in the air, mixing with freshly brewed coffee from somewhere farther down the hall, while fluorescent lights cast a soft white glow over the polished floor beneath their boots.

Ghost didn't slow and neither did Johnny.

They moved quickly through one corridor, then another, turning a corner before Ghost stopped without quite knowing why.

A single wooden door stood halfway down the hall.

Frosted glass filled its upper half, blurring everything beyond it into little more than shifting silhouettes, while a small plaque fixed beside the frame read:

Nurse Office.

There.

Someone moved behind the distorted glass.

Ghost reached the door first, pushing it open without knocking.

The room beyond was little more than a standard treatment office. A pair of examination beds stood against one wall, cabinets filled with neatly labelled medical supplies lined another, and the sharp scent of antiseptic hung heavily in the warm air.

Beneath the bright overhead lights, a young medic was carefully stitching the wound hidden beneath your hairline as you lay unconscious on the examination bed.

A small section of hair had been carefully parted and clipped back just behind your ear, revealing the wound along the side of your head where dried blood had already begun to darken against her skin.

The injury itself was being gently cleaned rather than stitched, antiseptic solution catching the light as it was applied with slow, precise movements. A young Beta nurse leaned over you with practiced concentration, steady hands working methodically as he wiped away the last traces of blood and debris, his focus entirely on ensuring the area was properly disinfected before dressing it.

Ghost froze, then Soap followed his gaze and everything inside him snapped.

Johnny reached the room first, the door slammed against the wall as he pushed inside with enough force to make the instruments on the nearby tray rattle.

"What the hell are ye doin'?"

The young nurse jerked violently, nearly dropping the gauzes he had in his hands. "I—"

Soap had already crossed half the room. "Step away from her." The order came out as a growl rather than words.

"I—I'm stitching her head." Ben instinctively recoiled.

"Move. Now." Johnny growled as he took another step.

His shoulders squared instinctively between the hospital bed and the young Beta, placing himself like a barrier between you and anyone who wasn't his pack. The comforting scent of cedar and black tea had vanished entirely beneath raw adrenaline, becoming sharper and heavier until it filled the small treatment room.

Though Betas couldn't produce the overwhelming dominance of an Alpha, they still reacted to their instincts, and every protective impulse Johnny possessed was screaming that you were injured, unconscious... and another male had his hands on her.

"I promise I'm not hurting her,” Ben's breathing quickened “I just need to clean her wound." His eyes darted from Soap to Ghost, clearly searching for whichever one looked marginally less likely to throw him through the wall.

Unfortunately, neither of them did.

Ghost entered the room without saying a word. Unlike Johnny, his movements were slow, measured, and controlled; which, somehow, made him infinitely more intimidating.

The room seemed to shrink around him. His Alpha pheromones bled into the air despite every obvious effort to restrain them,the smell of sage and rain-soaked stone settling over the room with crushing weight.

Ben instinctively lowered his head to hide his gaze, he stood completely still and avoided challenging the Alpha standing only a few feet away.

Ghost stopped beside the bed, right in front of poor Ben. His eyes travelled over you first, the dried blood at your temple. Then his gaze moved towards the antiseptic, the surgical tray, and the gloves covered with dried blood.

Only then did he slowly look at Ben again. His cold gaze fell upon him, examining him from head to toe, and with chilling determination, he took a step closer. He stopped once he was mere centimeters from the young Beta, who now trembled like a leaf beneath the Alpha's intense gaze and proximity.

"What are you doing?"

Ben swallowed. "...Treating her."

"What treatment?"

"I cleaned the wound and I'm closing the laceration."

"Why is she unconscious?"

"The concussion."

"How long?"

"She was unconscious when they brought her in."

Ghost didn't move, didn't blink, and didn't answer. He simply continued looking at him, His large body practically covered Ben entirely; Johnny could barely glimpse the trembling silhouette of Beta behind Lieutenant.

The silence stretched long enough for Ben's hands to begin trembling. "I can show you her chart if you'd like." He murmured loud enough to be heard.

Ghost's gaze flicked briefly towards the tray once more. Sterile instruments, fresh suture material, no restraints, no unnecessary medication, no signs of panic, and no evidence that you had been harmed after arriving.

Only someone receiving treatment.

However, Johnny hadn't relaxed, not even slightly. His body was practically buzzing with anger and his jaw remained clenched as he stood beside the bed, almost unconsciously placing himself between Ben and you. Every time the young nurse shifted his weight, Johnny's eyes followed the movement immediately and a dangerous growl escaped his throat.

Ghost exhaled deeply, letting out a gush of air through his balaclava, and poor Ben could have sworn he saw smoke billowing from underneath, almost like a demon, and only a small whimper of fear. Of course, this was all part of his paranoid mind, but neither Ghost nor Johnny were in any condition to reassure the terrified Beta.

Ghost finally spoke, "Take one step back."

Ben obeyed instantly.

"Further."

Another step.

Ghost moved closer to the bed himself, placing his body between Reader and the nurse without even seeming to think about it. His broad frame blocked almost the entire side of the mattress, forcing Ben to remain several feet away.

The Beta hesitated. "...Sir..."

Ghost hummed before he looked at the half-finished dressing. "You said you weren't done."

"No."

"Then finish." He grumbled.

Ben blinked. "...Excuse me?"

“Ghost” Johnny murmured between his teeth at the same time.

"You'll finish treating her." His voice remained calm and he didn't move."But you'll do it where I can see every movement you make."

Ben nodded so quickly it was almost comical. "Yes, sir. Of course, I wouldn’t do anything bad to her, I swear."

Johnny wasn’t so sure about it. Ghost shifted only half a step to the side, just enough. Not enough to stop shielding you completely, but enough for Ben to reach the wound again. However, Johnny didn’t move one bit while standing by your side, now holding your hand.

The young nurse approached with obvious caution, moving as though any sudden gesture might provoke another growl. His hands remained steady only because years of clinical training overrode the instinct telling him to flee the room entirely.

As Ben resumed cleaning the edges of the wound and securing the final dressing, Ghost never looked away, and neither did Soap. Every movement of the gauze, every touch of the forceps, every adjustment of the bandage. Both of them watched in complete silence.

Only once the dressing had been secured did Ghost reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. He selected a single contact and The call connected almost immediately:

"Medical Wing C." A brief pause. "Get here."He ended the call without another word.

The room fell silent once again and Ghost's eyes never left your laying body.

The steady rhythm of the cardiac monitor became the only constant sound beneath the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead.

Ben quietly removed his gloves, disposing of them in the clinical waste bin before instinctively taking another step back. Even though Ghost had allowed him to finish dressing the wound, he had no intention of approaching the bed again unless he was explicitly asked to do so. The Alpha's scent still lingered beneath the antiseptic, cold and oppressive enough to keep every survival instinct in the young Beta firmly on edge.

Soap's own pheromones remained equally restless, less overwhelming but no less protective, filling the room with the unmistakable feeling that Reader now stood at the centre of territory neither of them intended to surrender.

Neither Ghost nor Soap moved away from the bed.

Without speaking, they had instinctively positioned themselves on either side of you, unconsciously shielding you from the rest of the room. Every few seconds Ghost's gaze drifted back to the bandage wrapped around your head, while Soap watched the slow rise and fall of your chest as though reassuring himself she was still breathing.

Only a few minutes later, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.

The door opened and Price stepped inside. He had barely crossed the threshold before he stopped.

Years of command had taught him to assess a situation in seconds, but this room required even less than that. Ghost and Soap stood rigid beside the bed, their attention fixed entirely on the trembling Beta. If looks could kill, Johnny would have buried Ben long ago.

The sterile scent of disinfectant struggled against the protective pheromones saturating the room, and the young Beta nurse standing near the counter looked as though he would rather be anywhere else. Price had to suppress a gag reflex at the unpleasant smell coming from his two packmates, he wouldn’t be surprised if Ben had to go to therapy after this.

Price's blue eyes settled on you. The bandage, the dried blood near your temple, and the monitor beside the bed. Only then did they move to Ben.

"What happened?"

Ben straightened instinctively aAnd a look of astonishment appeared in her eyes. As if she didn't have enough to deal with now, not only did he have a Lieutenant and a Sergeant from Task Force 141, but now he also had to contend with Captain Price, who wasn't exactly known for his friendly nature.

"I... I'm afraid I don't know, Captain." He tried to keep his voice steady and stand tall. He was in charge of this infirmary, for God's sake, he had to have some authority.

"You treated her." Price frowned ever so slightly.

"Yes, sir."

"And?"

"I can only tell you the injuries."

Price gave a small nod, silently inviting him to continue.

"She was brought in unconscious approximately forty-five minutes ago. She has a scalp laceration, a mild concussion and several superficial abrasions to her hands and forearms." Ben glanced briefly toward the observation chart before continuing. "Her pupils have remained reactive, her neurological observations are stable, and there are no signs of intracranial bleeding at this time."

"What caused the injuries?"

Ben hesitated. "I don't know, sir."

"You weren't informed?"

"No, Captain."

Price studied him for a long moment.

Ben held the Captain's gaze despite the obvious nerves twisting in his stomach.

"When she arrived, she was already unconscious. Nobody who brought her in witnessed what happened, and she hasn't regained consciousness yet."

Silence settled over the room.

Price looked back toward Reader before looking back at Ben.

“Who brought her in?” Price asked with a dangerous tone in his voice.

Ben’s eyes widened as if he wasn't expecting that question. He opened and closed his mouth several times:

“I– I don’t know, sir. I was given the task to attend to her, but– but she was already here when I arrived.” He swallowed nervously “My superior told me about it, he said I was needed here. But– But he didn’t tell me anything about… About that.” As he spoke, his voice grew smaller and smaller.

Ghost hadn't taken his eyes off him once while Soap's jaw remained clenched tightly enough for the muscle to jump beneath the stubble along his cheek. His hands were still cradling yours, delicately caressing your soft skin.

Neither of them had relaxed since arriving.

Price understood why. Without knowing what had happened, every possibility remained on the table. An accident, an assault, or even something else entirely.

He breathed deeply before speaking again:

"When she wakes up..." His voice remained calm, but there was no mistaking the authority behind it. "I want the truth."

No one answered.

There was nothing else to say.

Across the room, the cardiac monitor continued its steady rhythm, each electronic pulse marking the slow passage of time while the four men waited for the only person who could explain what had happened to finally open her eyes.

"I've already told you four times." You let out a slow breath, closing your eyes for a moment as another dull ache spread beneath the bandage wrapped around her head. "I don't remember what happened. The last thing I remember is going upstairs. I started feeling light-headed, everything went blurry, and then..."

You paused, rubbing tiredly at your forehead before letting your hand fall back onto the blanket. "I must've fallen. I remember hitting my head, and after that... nothing."

You opened your eyes again, finding the same three faces watching you from exactly where they'd been since you’d regained consciousness.

"I don't know what else you want me to say." You commented, trying not to sound annoyed, but the truth was you didn't know how much longer you could keep saying the same thing over and over again.

You had been awake for barely thirty minutes. In those thirty minutes, the treatment room had remained almost unchanged. The steady pulse of the cardiac monitor filled every pause in the conversation, blending with the muted bustle beyond the closed door.

The sterile smell of disinfectant lingered thickly in the air, mixed with latex gloves, clean linen and the faint scent of fresh coffee drifting in each time someone opened the ward doors farther down the corridor.

The only thing that had changed was the atmosphere.

Ghost's Alpha pheromones no longer carried the crushing intensity they'd held when he'd first found you unconscious, but they hadn't disappeared either. They lingered beneath the antiseptic like cold rain settling over stone, restrained through sheer discipline yet impossible to ignore completely.

Soap's scent remained noticeably sharper than usual, warm cedar, black tea v and baked apples edged with persistent concern that refused to settle no matter how many times he reminded himself you were awake now.

You could feel all three of them watching your every move, every breath you take, every time you blink, trying to find the tiniest crack through which they could glimpse a hint of a lie.

Please.

Just believe me.

Please stop asking questions.

You hated lying, which was a paradox considering the lies that plagued your life specially to them. But you hated lying to Johnny the most. Every word tasted wrong.

You could still remember the figure behind you, the impact, the floor rushing towards you. You remembered everything right up until the moment darkness swallowed her whole.

Price rested one hand against the metal rail of the hospital bed, studying you quietly.

"You've had dizzy spells before?"

You nodded without hesitation. "A couple."

"When?"

You didn't even need to think:

"Sometimes after long shifts. If I skip meals or drink less water" The lie escaped your lips with surgical precision.

Price gave a slow nod.

"And yesterday?"

"I'd been working." You murmured looking around the white walls that surrounded you.

"For how long?" Price barked back almost immediately, leaving no time for extra explanations.

"I don't know... twelve hours, maybe a little more." You tried to wipe the sweat from your hands under the sheets; the whole situation was starting to get on your nerves.

Soap frowned, a worried look appeared on his face "Ye skipped dinner?" He whispered leaning slightly towards you and resting his big hand above your covered thigh “You should take care of yourself bonnie”

You looked towards him.

"I wasn't hungry." The lied slipped right through your lips. Of course you had had dinner, you could still remember how good the stew had tasted, but it was easier to lie.

As it always had been.

Johnny's expression tightened. "That's not like ye."

You managed a faint smile that never quite reached your eyes . "I know” Your voice softened almost apologetically. “ But I didn't have my lunch partner with me"

For a brief moment, the tension hanging over the room seemed to loosen.

Johnny blinked.

It took him a second to realise what you'd meant.

Then, despite everything, the hospital room, the dried blood still visible beneath the edge of the dressing, the questions that refused to leave the air, a helpless smile spread across his face. It wasn't forced. It wasn't polite. It simply happened, as naturally as breathing.

His shoulders relaxed without him noticing, the knot that had been tightening inside his chest ever since he'd found you unconscious easing ever so slightly.

His eyes never left yours.

There it was again.

That quiet warmth that somehow managed to survive every impossible situation the two of you found yourselves in.

For just a heartbeat, it almost felt normal.

Like the countless evenings you'd spent sharing hurried meals between shifts, teasing one another over terrible coffee and stolen desserts in the mess hall, pretending neither of you had anywhere else to be.

God...

You were smiling at him.

His wolf practically wagged its tail beneath his ribs, basking shamelessly in the tiny scrap of affection you'd thrown his way. It was ridiculous. Embarrassing, even. One simple sentence was enough to make his entire evening feel lighter, and he knew Ghost would probably never let him live it down if he could somehow hear the thoughts running through his head.

He couldn't help it.

Seeing you smile, even one that didn't quite reach your eyes, still felt infinitely better than seeing you unconscious.

Silence settled over the room again.

Ghost hadn't spoken once. He simply continued watching you. It wasn't what you were saying that bothered him, it was how you were saying it.

For almost anyone else, your answers would have sounded entirely believable, little more than an unfortunate accident explained by an exhausted medic who had spent too many hours looking after everyone except herself.

Ghost wasn't almost anyone else.

He had spent years sitting across interrogation tables, learning to recognise the tiny fractures that appeared long before a story actually broke apart. He'd questioned prisoners who could lie without blinking, undercover operatives trained to build convincing cover identities and seasoned soldiers who believed they could outlast an interrogation simply by repeating the same version often enough.

The words rarely betrayed them.

Their timing did.

Every answer you gave arrived a fraction too quickly.

Not rushed.

Prepared.

As though the conversation had already happened dozens of times inside your own head before anyone had entered the room.

There was no hesitation while you searched your memory.

No uncertainty.

No natural pauses.

Only immediate, carefully measured responses that fit together almost too neatly.

Even your smile, it came at exactly the right moment. Enough to soften the atmosphere, enough to make Johnny relax, enough to steer the conversation somewhere safer.

It was good. Very good.

Price noticed it too, Ghost was sure about it. The way his Pack Alpha had a permaenet frown on his forehead and the way he licked his moustache with the tip of his tongue, was enough for Ghost to know that he wasn’t convinced.

"You don't remember falling?" Price asked meticulously.

"No." You slowly shook your head.

"You only remember feeling dizzy." Price stated.

"Yes."

"And waking up here."

"Yes."

Price remained silent and you knew that silence. He wasn't satisfied, nor was he convinced. He was waiting. He was waiting for you to change your story, to add information. Liars usually fold under pressure, they try to make their story seem believable and they usually start adding unnecessary details.

You knew that.

You let out another tired sigh before turning towards Soap. "Johnny..."

His eyes met yours immediately.

"I'm exhausted." You swallowed against the dryness in her throat. "My head hurts." The words came out quieter this time. "I've answered everything I can."

You offered him a tired smile as you continued speaking "Please... can we leave it for today?"

Johnny's entire posture changed before he even realised it.

His shoulders straightened instinctively, placing himself half a step closer to the bed as though his body had decided, entirely on its own, to stand between you and any more questions. Every protective instinct he possessed surged to the surface at once, quiet but unmistakable. His wolf, restless ever since finding you unconscious, settled around a single, overwhelming certainty.

You were exhausted, you were injured, and the interrogation was over.

His expression softened as he looked down at you, concerned replacing every lingering doubt that had occupied his mind only moments before.

He gave the smallest nod, almost imperceptible. A silent promise. I've got you.

Only then did he lift his gaze towards Price. "I think she needs tae rest, sir." He said seriously, there was no hesitation in his voice.

No uncertainty. It wasn't a suggestion, but a plea wrapped carefully enough in military discipline to sound like a recommendation.

Price's gaze remained on you for several long seconds.He studied you with the same patient composure that had carried him through decades of command, saying nothing while his mind quietly revisited every answer you had given since regaining consciousness.

Together, everything you said formed a story that was almost too complete.

His gaze lingered on your face. You looked exhausted, that much was unquestionably real. The dark circles beneath your eyes weren't fabricated, nor the slight tremor in your breathing wasn't performed, not even was the pain you tried unsuccessfully to hide every time your head shifted against the pillow.

But exhaustion and honesty weren't the same thing. Something sat beneath your carefully rehearsed explanation, something you had chosen not to tell them.

Price knew it, he could feel it.

Unfortunately, instinct wasn't evidence. And without evidence, there was nowhere left to push.

At least not today.

You forced yourself not to look away, not to fidget, not to let the guilt creeping beneath your ribs reach your face.

Just breathe, slowly.

Eventually, Price gave a slow nod.

"Get some rest." He said before turning around and leaving the room.

Nothing more. Just three quiet words before he stepped away from the bedside.

Ghost didn't move, he was still watching you .

The silence surrounding him felt almost heavier than Price's questions.

You could feel him watching, as though he were searching for something hidden beneath your skin.

His wolf had gone unnaturally still. Not calm, still. Like a predator freezing the instant it noticed movement somewhere beyond the trees, waiting to pound on its prey.

Every instinct sharpened through years of combat, surveillance and interrogation pressed insistently against the inside of his mind.

Something was wrong, he couldn't explain why and he couldn't prove it. But every fibre of his being rejected the story you'd given them.

It wasn't the words, it wasn't even the timing anymore. It was you. The way your heartbeat subtly shifted whenever Price asked the wrong question, the almost invisible tension in your shoulders before every answer.

His Alpha instincts clawed restlessly beneath his control.

Protect.

The impulse came suddenly, raw, and violent.

Not only because you were injured but because something had frightened you enough to lie while lying in a hospital bed with stitches in your head.

Someone had done this. Someone. And until he knew who, his wolf wasn't going to rest.

You could almost feel the weight of his stare against your skin.

Don't ask anything else.

Please...

Ghost finally looked away.

"C'mon."

Johnny lingered beside the bed for another moment after Ghost and Price had already turned towards the door.

His eyes softened the instant they settled on you again.

Without saying a word, he reached out almost hesitantly, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

When you didn't, his fingers gently brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face, carefully tucking it behind your ear so it wouldn't catch against the fresh bandage.

His hand moved to the blanket next, pulling it a little higher over your shoulders before smoothing the fabric with slow, absent-minded movements.

Then he adjusted your pillow ever so slightly, lifting your head just enough to settle it more comfortably before lowering it again with a tenderness that almost surprised even him.

Every movement was instinctive, gentle, and protective. As though looking after you had become the most natural thing in the world.

Only when he was certain you were comfortable did he finally smile. It was small and warm. The kind of smile someone reserved for a person they cared about far more than they intended to admit.

"Ye get some sleep." He murmured softly..

You returned it automatically. "I will."

For reasons you couldn't quite explain, the simple warmth of his touch lingered long after his hand had left your hair.

Your chest tightened strangely. Not painfully but in a comfortable way.

A slow warmth spread through you, soft and unfamiliar, easing some invisible tension you hadn't even realised you'd been carrying since waking up. The pounding ache behind your eyes remained, yet somehow it felt farther away now, muffled beneath the quiet reassurance of being looked after so gently.

Your vision blurred for the briefest moment.

Not from the concussion or at least you didn't think so.

Your thoughts suddenly felt strangely light, wrapped in a soft haze that made it difficult to focus on anything except the lingering feeling of safety surrounding you. It was almost embarrassingly easy to imagine simply closing your eyes again, letting yourself sink back into the pillows while somebody else took care of everything for a little while.

Your lashes fluttered.

The corners of your eyes stung unexpectedly, leaving them bright with unshed tears you couldn't explain.

You weren't scared anymore.

You weren't even thinking.

You just felt safe.

The sensation frightened you far more than the interrogation ever had.

No.

Your heartbeat stumbled.

No.

You forced yourself to blink several times, giving the smallest shake of your head as though trying to clear away whatever strange fog had settled over your mind. It had to be the concussion. The dizziness. The medication. Anything else would have been absurd.

By the time Johnny finally stepped away from the bed, you had managed to steady your breathing again.

Almost.

Johnny held your gaze for one heartbeat longer before reluctantly following the others outside of the room.

The door closed behind them with a soft click.

The steady rhythm of the cardiac monitor filled the room once again.

Only when you were certain they had gone did you allow the smile to disappear.

You stared at the ceiling for several silent seconds before closing her eyes.

I'm sorry.

The words never left your lips.

Outside the treatment room, the automatic door slid shut behind them with a muted mechanical hiss, sealing you away beneath the steady rhythm of cardiac monitors and fluorescent lights. For several long seconds, none of the three men spoke.

Their boots echoed softly across the polished hospital floor as they walked without any clear destination, the sterile smell of disinfectant, floor polish and freshly laundered linen hanging heavily in the air around them. Nurses moved past carrying observation charts and medication trays, offering polite nods that went almost entirely unnoticed.

The silence surrounding the three soldiers felt strangely detached from the ordinary routine of the medical wing, as though they had stepped into a world moving at a different pace from everyone else.

Price finally stopped beside one of the large observation windows overlooking the courtyard outside the infirmary.

Rain had begun falling sometime during your examination, leaving the concrete paths slick beneath the grey Scottish sky while droplets crawled lazily down the glass between him and the outside world.

He rested both hands inside the pockets of his jacket, his shoulders remaining relaxed despite the growing tension settling beneath his skin.

Behind him, Ghost came to a halt without a word, while Johnny remained standing a few steps farther back, his eyes lingering on the closed treatment-room door as though part of him still expected you to call them back.

It was Ghost who finally broke the silence.

"She lied."

His voice remained as flat and controlled as ever, carrying no anger and no frustration, only quiet certainty. It wasn't an accusation anymore, it was a conclusion.

Price didn't turn around, he just kept walking "I know."

Johnny lowered his head, rubbing slowly at the back of his neck before letting out a weary sigh.

Another silence settled over them.

Ghost's pale eyes drifted briefly towards the rain beyond the window before returning to Price's back:

"First we find out Sebastian exists." No one interrupted him. "Then Personnel tells us nothing." His voice remained steady. "Then a full Colonel steps in personally. And then Gaz can't even get close to the file."

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly beneath the mask as he continued speaking:

"And now she turns up unconscious with a concussion."

The words lingered heavily between them.

Johnny felt the same uncomfortable weight settle in his chest that had refused to leave him since they'd walked into the treatment room and found you unconscious beneath dried blood and antiseptic.

"...Ye think they're connected?"

Ghost didn't answer immediately.

"I don't know." Another pause. "But I don't believe in that many coincidences."

Price finally turned to face them. The lines around his eyes looked deeper than usual, carved there by years of command, impossible decisions and too many operations that had gone wrong because someone had acted before understanding the battlefield in front of them.

"I agree."

Neither Ghost nor Johnny had expected that answer.

Price drew a slow breath before continuing. "Something's happening." His gaze moved briefly between both men as he continued speaking:

"And whatever it is..."He hesitated only for a fraction of a second. "...it's operating above our clearance."

Neither of them spoke.

"We don't know who Sebastian is." Prince kept going on.

"No."

"We don't know why his records are protected."

"No."

"We don't know why that database behaves the way it does."

"No."

"We don't know who attacked her."

Johnny frowned slightly. "If she was attacked." he replied automatically rejecting the idea that you would have been capable of lying to him

Price looked directly at him. "Right, If." He deliberately emphasised the word. "Because right now we don't even have proof of that."

"So what do we do?" Ghost folded his arms across his chest.

Price remained silent long enough for both men to wonder whether he intended to answer at all. Finally, he spoke:

"Nothing."

Johnny blinked.

"...Sir?"

"Not yet."

Ghost's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly.

Price saw it.

"I know exactly what both of you are thinking." His voice remained calm, though the quiet authority beneath it left no room for argument. "You think someone attacked one of your own." Neither denied it. "You think somebody's hiding information from us and you think if you push hard enough..." He looked directly at Ghost."...you'll eventually find the truth."

Another silence as Price slowly shook his head.

"I've buried enough soldiers to know where that kind of thinking leads."

The sentence hung in the air with far more weight than either of the other two men had expected.

"If this reaches as high as I think it might..." His jaw tightened. "...charging in blind won't solve anything."

His blue eyes settled first on Johnny. " It'll get people killed." Then on Ghost. "And I won't allow that."

The corridor fell silent once again. Beyond the window, the rain continued falling steadily across the empty courtyard. After almost a full minute, Price finally spoke again.

"I'll make a call."

Ghost lifted his head. "To who?"

"Laswell."

Neither of them looked surprised.

Price continued before either could ask another question.

"If someone inside the intelligence community knows why a military personnel file is being guarded like a classified operation..." His eyes drifted briefly towards the closed treatment-room door behind them. "...it's Kate."

Johnny slowly nodded. "And until then?"

Price looked at both of them one final time.

"Leave her alone." His tone remained firm. "No more questions, no more investigations, no more guessing." He made a small pause rubbing his beard. "If she's hiding something, we’ll find out."

Without another word, Price adjusted the brim of his cap and walked away down the corridor, his footsteps gradually disappearing beneath the distant sounds of the hospital.

Ghost watched him leave until the Captain disappeared around the corner. Only then did the corridor become truly silent again.

The antiseptic scent seemed stronger now, mingling with the faint smell of rain drifting in each time the automatic doors at the far end of the ward opened and closed.

Johnny remained staring after Price for several long seconds.

"He's right."

Ghost didn't answer and Johnny rubbed tiredly at his face.

"We dinnae know enough." Still nothing, no reaction from Ghost "If this goes higher than the Colonel..." He let out another slow breath. "...maybe we should leave it until Kate gives us more intel."

Ghost remained motionless. His eyes rested on the rain sliding slowly down the window. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady.

"We've already left it."

Johnny frowned. "What?"

"We asked around." Ghost counted quietly. "We went to Personnel, we went through Price, we asked Gaz… And we waited." Ghost slowly turned his head. "And while we were waiting..." His voice lowered almost to a whisper. "...She ended up unconscious."

Johnny looked away, he couldn't argue with that.

Ghost's eyes settled once more on the closed treatment-room door. “We need to prepare” He mumbled through the mask, now looking at Johnny “Something's coming and we have no clue of when or who is behind this”.

Johnny lowered his eyes because he knew Simon wasn't wrong.

For days they had done exactly what Price had expected of experienced soldiers. They had followed the chain of command. They had respected classified boundaries. They had trusted that someone higher up the ladder would either explain what was happening or deal with it before the situation escalated.

Instead, you had ended up unconscious.

Johnny’s wolf shifted uneasily beneath his ribs.

"...Simon." He grumbled knowing that disturbing look that had now appeared behind his Alpha’s eyes.

Ghost interrupted him before he could continue. "Five days."

"What?" Johnny blinked.

"Five days." Ghost repeated it with exactly the same measured calmness. "We watch her for five days."

Johnny stared at him as Ghost continued speaking:

"If nothing happens..." Ghost's gaze never wavered. "...we remove everything."

The words hung between them but Johnny immediately understood what Simon was proposing. His stomach tightened and a wave of dizziness invaded him.

"No." He barked.

Ghost remained silent.

“No.” He barked again "We're no' puttin' cameras inside her house."

"We're not spying on her."

Johnny let out a humourless laugh. "It bloody sounds like spying tae me."

“No” Ghost answered came immediately "We're trying to find out whether she's in danger."

Johnny took a step closer before he even realised he'd moved. His shoulders had become rigid and his breathing had shortened. His wolf surged forward with enough force that a low, instinctive sound escaped somewhere deep in his throat before he consciously stopped it.

It wasn't loud, barely more than the beginning of a growl. Even so, it echoed unmistakably through the empty corridor.

Ghost remained completely still.

"...Easy."

Johnny froze. The silence that followed was almost unbearable. He hadn't meant to do that, he hadn't meant to react as though Ghost had threatened someone under his protection. Embarrassment spread across his face and his shoulders slowly lowered.

"...Sorry."

"Captain told us not to move until we knew more." His pale eyes were still on Johnny.

"Aye."

"He told us to be ready." Johnny remained silent and Ghost continued speaking, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm getting ready."

The simplicity of the statement somehow made it even harder to argue against. Johnny looked away, ashamed of even considering it. His mind immediately filled with everything that made the idea feel wrong.

An invasion of privacy, that's what it is. They were going to be watching you without your knowledge. A wave of vomit threatened to invade his throat,

You had invaded him home, to your home, your safe space. And now he was entering uninvited, he was entering an Omega’s house uninvited, and without her knowledge. Yes, he was about to vomit.

"We'd be spying on her." He repeated again, now walking in circles as he passed his hand though his hair trying to calm down.

Ghost answered almost before Johnny finished speaking. "No."

"We would."

"No." Simon's voice remained calm. "We'd be watching the entrances."

Johnny sighed heavily. "That's still spying, Simon. You know this. We’ve done this before, we know how spying works" He said, pointing between them.

Ghost accepted the criticism with a small inclination of his head. "Maybe."

The admission surprised Johnny enough to make him hesitate. Ghost wasn't trying to pretend otherwise. He knew exactly how morally grey the decision was.

"I'm not interested in what she does inside that house." His voice softened almost imperceptibly. "I'm interested in whether somebody else does."

Johnny looked back towards him.

Ghost continued. "If someone's following her, if someone's watching her, if somebody comes back..." His jaw tightened beneath the mask. "...we'll know."

Silence stretched between them once more.

Johnny hated how much sense it made.

Because every argument against it collided with the image of you lying unconscious beneath white hospital sheets only a few metres away.

He closed his eyes for a moment. Johnny dragged one hand across his face.

"This feels wrong."

"So does finding her unconscious in her own house."

The words settled heavily between them.

"What if she's telling the truth?"

"Then we take them down."

Johnny remained silent. Every instinct screamed that crossing into your private life would betray whatever trust still existed between them.

Another instinct, older and infinitely more difficult to ignore, whispered something else entirely. If someone really was hunting you, doing nothing would be worse.

He slowly opened his eyes again.

"...Only five days."

Ghost nodded once.

"No bedrooms." Johnny commanded.

"No bedrooms." Ghost repeated.

"No bathroom."

Johnny swallowed. "And the entrance, we watch the entrance"

Ghost nodded. "We watch the entrances."

"Living room and kitchen."

Another nod from Ghost.

"And hallway." Johnny concluded "And if nothing happens..."

Ghost finished the sentence for him. “...we take them down."

For the first time since leaving the nursery office you were in, Johnny gave the smallest nod. It wasn't agreement born from conviction, but more of resignation.

Because somewhere beneath every moral objection, his instincts kept returning to the same thought.

If Simon was wrong and you were safe, you would never know about the cameras.

But if Simon was right… Five days might be the only warning they ever got.

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck. Every instinct screamed that crossing into your private life like this was wrong. Every other instinct screamed even louder that leaving you alone and possibly finding you dead with marks around your neck would be worse.

He hated both possibilities.

"...Only a few days."

Ghost gave a single nod.

"Only a few days."

Five days.

Five days had passed.

Five days of absolute normality.

At least, nothing they could see.

Every evening, the cameras came to life the moment you stepped through your front door.

Every night unfolded almost exactly the same. You kicked off your shoes in the hallway before disappearing briefly into your bedroom to change into comfortable clothes. The kettle almost always went on within minutes, the quiet sound of cupboards opening and closing echoing softly through the otherwise silent house while you prepared yourself something warm to drink. Sometimes it was tea. Sometimes coffee, despite the late hour.

Then… Nothing.

You curled up on the sofa with a blanket draped lazily across your legs, reading a book, watching television or simply sitting in comfortable silence until sleep finally began pulling at your eyelids.

Some nights you fell asleep there. Other nights you disappeared upstairs after switching off the lights one by one.

No unexpected visitors, no mysterious phone calls, no movement outside the windows, no doors opening in the middle of the night, no footsteps that didn't belong to you.

Every morning looked equally ordinary. You padded downstairs still wearing your slippers, your hair slightly tousled from sleep, rubbing absent-mindedly at one eye while waiting for the kettle to boil. Sometimes you stood in the kitchen staring blankly out of the window, still too sleepy to fully wake up. Other mornings you wandered from room to room wrapped in an oversized jumper, moving with the slow, unhurried rhythm of someone enjoying the quiet before another long shift.

Nothing about your routine suggested fear, nothing suggested you were hiding someone inside the house, and nothing suggested anyone else had entered it.

Johnny watched every recording with growing relief.

By the third day, he found himself smiling despite his best efforts whenever the cameras caught those first sleepy minutes of your morning routine. There was something quietly endearing about watching you shuffle into the kitchen with barely opened eyes, still waking up while waiting for your coffee to brew. His wolf responded every single time with the same quiet warmth settling comfortably beneath his ribs, soothed by the simple reassurance that you were safe.

Ghost never commented on it, but he noticed it too. He noticed how your shoulders visibly relaxed the moment your front door closed behind you each evening, how you unconsciously curled your feet beneath yourself whenever you settled on the sofa, how you wandered through the house without caution, completely unaware that anyone was watching.

His wolf, stubbornly restless ever since the hospital, grew unexpectedly quiet during those moments. Not because his suspicions had disappeared.

Because seeing you safe, warm and alive beneath your own roof satisfied an instinct he still refused to examine too closely.

Five days.

Five days during which nothing happened.

Johnny watched another uneventful recording come to an end before leaning back heavily in his chair inside the communications room. The screen showed an empty hallway. Another ordinary evening. Another hour of absolutely nothing.

Johnny’s stomach twisted.

"...Simon." He mumbled.

Ghost looked up from another monitor.

"We should take them down." Johnny murmured.

Ghost remained silent.

"I'm serious." Johnny rested both elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. "We've seen enough."

Still nothing.

"If she was hiding something..." His voice grew quieter. "...we would've seen it."

Ghost watched him carefully. Johnny looked exhausted, not physically but morally.

"This doesnae feel right anymore. I– I don’t feel right with this anymore."

Ghost's expression softened almost imperceptibly before nodding "We'll take them down."

Johnny nodded. "Tonight." He left no room for discussion.

But before Ghost had the chance to answer, the communications room door opened.

Price stepped inside carrying a folder beneath one arm.

Gaz followed behind him, halfway through complaining about the following day's deployment schedule before his words died abruptly.

Price had stopped walking.

His eyes rested on the monitors.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five separate camera feeds.

Inside your house.

Silence swallowed the room.

Price looked from the screens to Ghost, then to Johnny. His jaw tightened so slowly that the movement was almost imperceptible.

The muscles beneath his beard hardened. His fingers curled around the edge of the folder until the cardboard bent beneath the pressure.

And the scent surrounding him changed. Normally it carried light notes of dark coffee, fresh cologne and fresh grass . Now another note slowly emerged beneath it. A strong cigar smoke, the bitter smell of something burning paper and the strong smell of clove.

Both Ghost and Johnny recognised it instantly.

Their Alpha was furious.

Price spoke so quietly that the room somehow became even more tense.

"...Tell me..." Nobody moved. "...why..." His gaze shifted back towards the monitors. "...there are surveillance feeds..." Another pause. "...inside one of the nurses home."

Johnny opened his mouth but Price interrupted him just by lifting one finger.

"Don't." The single word stopped him immediately.

Ghost answered instead. "We installed them."

"I can see that."

"We believed she was lying."

Price looked at him for several seconds. "Your suppositions were the ones that gave you authority to place surveillance equipment inside military accommodation?" He almost screamed.

"No."

"Then explain why you did it." He growled.

Ghost didn't lower his eyes. "We ran out of options."

Gaz stared at both of them as though they'd suddenly started speaking another language. "...Oh God… You’ve completely lost it. You two have completely lost it." He muttered astonished. “You two need an intervention, like, psychiatrist help.”

Neither answered.

Gaz laughed once. Not because he found any of this funny but because he genuinely couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You actually installed cameras." Silence. "Inside her house."

Silence again.

Johnny finally spoke. "There are no cameras in the bathroom."

Gaz blinked several times and looked at him like he had grown a second head.

"Or her bedroom." Johnny continued quickly. "We only covered the entrance, the living room and the hallway. We just wanted—"

Price's voice cut across the room. "You wanted what?"

Johnny looked down. "To make sure she was safe."

Price closed his eyes for one brief second. When he opened them again, the frustration inside them had not disappeared. It had simply been forced back beneath discipline.

"If anyone above our pay grade discovers this..." His voice remained dangerously calm. "...the investigation won't begin with you."

Both men looked at him.

"It'll begin with me."

Neither Ghost nor Johnny answered.

Price drew a slow breath again. "We are removing those cameras."

"Aye." Johnny nodded immediately.

"Tonight." He stated moving his hands around, pointing at the floor to highlight the urgency of the moment.

Before anyone moved, another officer appeared at the doorway.

"The convoy's ready, Captain."

Price glanced towards the clock mounted high on the wall, the red digits reflecting the late hour with an almost accusatory stillness, and for a brief moment it was as if the entire room remembered at once that they were still soldiers bound to schedules, orders and movements that did not pause simply because something personal had gone wrong inside their own ranks.

The overnight deployment had been scheduled days in advance, a routine convoy exercise meant to test rapid mobilisation between two remote training sites on the northern perimeter, the kind of operation that normally required minimal thought and even less emotional investment, yet in that moment it felt like an intrusion, like the military world insisting on continuing to function while something far more unstable was unfolding beneath it.

He'd forgotten how late it had become, and the realisation only seemed to tighten the tension in his jaw rather than relieve it. The convoy would be leaving within ten minutes, engines already warming outside, personnel already assembling in the motor pool for a night movement designed to simulate low-visibility coordination under restricted communication protocols, a simple enough exercise on paper but one that now felt absurdly distant from the situation unfolding in front of him.

Price looked back towards the monitors, the glow of the surveillance feeds still casting pale light across the room, and for a moment his attention lingered on the image of your empty living space as if trying to reconcile the normality of it with the breach of trust that had just been exposed.

The contrast between operational discipline and personal violation sitting heavily behind his eyes as he made the decision to step away from one crisis only to walk directly into another.

Price looked back towards the surveillance feeds one final time before making his decision.

Then he turned towards Gaz. "You stay." He ordered.

"Excuse me?" Gaz frowned.

"You'll monitor the feeds until we get back."

For a second, Gaz genuinely thought he'd misheard him. Then he laughed, not because it was funny but because it was completely ridiculous.

"The hell I will."

“Kyle…” Price almost growled.

"No, Captain. I'm not doing that." He pointed openly at Ghost before swinging the same finger towards Johnny. "They're the ones who've completely lost the plot." His voice rose another octave. "They broke into a nurse’s house, they installed hidden cameras, they've been watching her for who knows how long!"

He looked back at Price in complete disbelief before he continued speaking:

"And somehow this is becoming my problem?"

Price sighed. "Gaz—"

"No." Gaz cut him off immediately. "I'm serious. This” He moved his hands around “is mental. And I don't care what either of them says." He pointed at Johnny "This is obsessive." Then he pointed at Ghost "And he's just encouraging it."

Gaz’s arms flew out to either side completely done with the conversation "I'm not sitting in my room spying on a woman because these two have suddenly forgotten what privacy is. I refuse."

Price didn't react. "You know this system better than anyone."

"I don't care."

"You built the recording system."

"I still don't care."

"You're the only signals specialist available."

Gaz folded his arms. "Find another one."

"You strained your shoulder during CQB last week." Price's expression didn't change as he answered.

"...What?" Gaz blinked, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

"The medic restricted you from prolonged vehicle rotations."

"You cannot seriously be using my own medical report against me." Gaz stared at him, anger was starting to cloud his mind.

"I am."

"Captain..."

"You weren't assigned to tonight's convoy for exactly that reason."

Gaz looked utterly betrayed.

"...That was supposed to be a good thing."

"It still is."

"It doesn't feel like it!"

Price was already walking towards the workstation.

"I don't believe this..." Gaz muttered, completely shocked "I genuinely don't believe this." He looked at his three packmates with wild eyes “You’ve seriously gone crazy, you all need a medical check-up, your brains have been damaged after all these years… Maybe we can find a solution before you start talking to the coffee machine.”

Price reached behind the centre monitor before disconnecting a small encrypted USB device from one of the secure terminals.

Without a word, he crossed the room and pressed it firmly into Gaz's hand.

Gaz looked down at it, then back at Price, then back at the USB stick again.

"What's this?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Before Price could answer, Johnny spoke.

"The surveillance client." Answered Johnny, quite excitedly for Gaz’s taste.

“I know what it is, I’m just wondering why is it in my hand?” Sarcasm dripped through his voice.

Gaz looked at him blankly.

"Plug it into your laptop." Johnny nodded towards the USB. “It'll launch the encrypted viewer automatically. The authentication certificates are already stored on the drive, you'll connect directly to the live camera relay."

"The feeds are encrypted end-to-end." Ghost added "No recordings stay on your machine. The footage streams through the secure relay before wiping the local cache once you disconnect."

No one dared to speak.

Gaz slowly looked from Ghost, to Johnny, to the USB stick still sitting in his hand.

"You’ve planned all this? To be able to watch her from any device?" Neither of them answered and his mouth fell open. "Oh, you've completely lost your bloody minds."

He held the USB between two fingers as though it had suddenly become radioactive.

"No." He stated “I’m not doing this. I'm not taking this home. I'm not watching those cameras." He continued” I don't care what she's doing. I don't care who she's talking to. And I don't care if she spends the evening playing bloody Cluedo or whatever"

Gaz sent them a freezing glance before speaking again:

"She's not my responsibility." He pointed emphatically towards Johnny. "She's yours, apparently."

Price stepped forward once more and he closed Gaz's fingers firmly around the USB drive.

"No more discussion." He barked.

Gaz immediately tried handing it back but Price didn't even look at it.

"This is a direct order." His tone was calm, it was final. "You will take the drive, you will monitor the feeds and iIf anything changes… You call me, immediately."

Gaz opened his mouth again but Price spoke over him.

"If you ignore that order..." A brief pause. "...you'll answer to me for insubordination."

The room fell silent. Gaz looked down at the USB trapped inside his own fist. Then at Ghost. Then Johnny, he had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

"We'll remove the cameras the moment we get back." Ghost simply reached for the door.

"Aye." Johnny followed him out.

Price adjusted the brim of his cap one last time before leaving the room without another word.

A second later, the communications room door clicked shut. Gaz remained standing exactly where they had left him. Still holding the USB drive and still staring at it as though it might explode.

I don’t like this, he thought.

And oh how right he was.

Gaz spent the entire walk back to his room muttering under his breath.

Every second sentence was directed at Ghost.

Every third at Johnny.

By the time he reached the Pack House, irritation had settled so deeply beneath his skin that even the familiar warmth of the building failed to soften it.

The corridor lights glowed with their usual amber hue, casting long shadows across polished wooden floors that had become as familiar as his own bedroom over the years, yet tonight everything felt strangely smaller, quieter, suffocating in a way he couldn't quite explain.

By the time he pushed open his bedroom door, he had already talked himself into a state of simmering irritation that had nothing to do with fatigue and everything to do with the sheer absurdity of the last few days.

The whole situation felt like something that should have been shut down immediately, buried under a formal report and never spoken of again, and yet here he was, the one left behind to babysit a set of surveillance feeds like some kind of glorified night watchman.

He walked down the hallway before pushing open his bedroom door with considerably more force than necessary.

The latch struck the wall with a dull thud behind him, the sound echoing in the small room.

"...Absolute bloody idiots."

The words escaped before he even realised he'd spoken aloud.

He stood motionless for a moment, breathing through his nose as the silence settled around him once again. His room looked exactly as he'd left it that morning. Bed made. His pyjamas folded neatly across the chair. Laptop resting closed on the desk beneath the window.

Everything was perfectly ordinary.

Unlike the last hour.

With a tired exhale, he reached for the collar of his duty shirt, unbuttoning it slowly before shrugging it off and hanging it over the back of the chair. His utility belt followed, unclipped with the same automatic precision drilled into him over years of service, the weight of it suddenly absent from his hips.

Then came his boots, kicked off and left neatly by the wall, and finally his trousers were swapped for loose sleepwear, each movement more absent-minded than the last until he was left in a plain undershirt and comfortable joggers, the standard off-duty uniform of the base.

He rubbed one hand slowly across the back of his neck before walking into the small adjoining bathroom.

The fluorescent light flickered briefly before settling as he took the rest of his clothes off.

As he pulled a clean pyjama T-shirt over his head, he caught his reflection in the darkened window and barely recognised the expression staring back at him. It wasn’t exhaustion, not really. It was something tighter, more irritated, like his own skin didn’t quite fit right anymore. He scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling through his nose, and muttered under his breath as he moved into the bathroom.

Cold water ran over his fingers as he reached automatically for his toothbrush, squeezing a strip of toothpaste across the bristles without really looking. The familiar routine required almost no thought at all, allowing his mind to drift somewhere else entirely while he stared absently into the mirror.

Stupid.

All of it.

Ghost and his bloody certainty, Johnny and his guilt-ridden obsession, Price and his moral outrage like he hadn’t just spent half his career bending rules when it suited him.

And you.

He frowned at his own reflection. "How the hell did we get here?" He signed.

The toothbrush moved mechanically as his thoughts continued.

You and Sebastian.

The name settled heavily in the front of his mind and It made his jaw tighten around the toothbrush.

He spat into the sink and rinsed his mouth, staring at himself in the mirror for a moment longer than necessary.

During the four nights following the conversation in the Pack House, he'd continued trying to reach Sebastian's file long after everyone else had gone to sleep.

Not because Ghost had asked him to but because he hated unfinished systems.

At first he'd simply repeated the original access route, assuming he'd overlooked something obvious.

When that failed, he'd changed methodology entirely. Mirror servers, legacy authentication protocols, archived credentials retained from joint NATO exercises, internal routing tables that should no longer have existed, and even abandoned administrative pathways that had been quietly left behind after old infrastructure migrations years earlier.

One by one, he'd tested every possibility he could think of. Every trick, every shortcut, and every exploit he'd spent years quietly learning. None of them worked.

The strange part wasn't being denied access. He'd expected that military databases rejected people every day.

What unsettled him was how they rejected him. The response never came from the same server twice. The authentication requests didn't terminate naturally, they were intercepted and redirected.

Sometimes the connection disappeared before the request even reached its destination. Other times the session simply ceased to exist, as though somebody had reached into the network itself and erased the last few seconds before they could ever become a permanent record.

No warning, no error, no trace, like he'd never been there at all.

The pattern repeated itself so cleanly it was almost impossible to ignore. Every path they followed ended exactly the same way: a locked door.

Gaz slowly lowered both hands onto the edge of the sink.

"...Someone's watching us."

The conclusion had been sitting quietly at the back of his mind for days, he'd simply refused to say it aloud.

He stared at himself in the mirror for several long seconds.

You should have just told the truth. Whatever it was. Whatever you were hiding. It would have been easier.

Instead, they were all standing in the middle of a mess that didn’t even feel like theirs, and somehow he was the one stuck watching cameras in a house that wasn’t his, pretending it was normal.

He turned off the light in the bathroom and stepped back into the bedroom, the sudden shift into dim warmth almost disorienting. The bedside lamp cast a soft amber glow across the walls, making everything feel quieter than it should have been, too contained, too still.

He changed into loose sleep trousers without really thinking about it, movements slow now, less angry and more automatic, like his body was following instructions his mind had already stopped agreeing with. When he finally sat on the edge of the bed, he let out a long breath and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

This is ridiculous.

He had already decided earlier. He wasn’t going to look at the cameras.

He wasn’t going to sit there like some paranoid idiot watching a woman’s private life unfold on a screen just because Ghost and Johnny couldn’t let go of a suspicion.

He wasn’t that person.

He wasn’t going to be that person.

He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed.

His elbows rested against his knees while both hands clasped together loosely between them. His wolf shifted restlessly somewhere beneath the surface, not aggressive, not anxious, simply awake.

He looked towards the dark monitor sitting silently on the desk across the room and closed his eyes briefly.

This is ridiculous.

He had already made his decision. He wasn't going to spend the evening staring at surveillance feeds inside a colleague's home simply because Ghost refused to let go of a theory.

He stood up again, pacing once across the room, then back, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration.

And yet—

And yet the thought wouldn’t leave him alone.

Because underneath all the irritation,there was something else. Something quieter. Something that had been building since the moment you had smiled at him the first day in the infirmary like nothing in the world was wrong.

You were too calm, too controlled, too untouched by any of this, and it didn’t sit right.

He stopped walking to stare at the darkened corner of the room. His wolf shifted beneath his skin, restless, circling, listening to something he couldn’t quite hear yet.

He took one step towards the bed, then stopped. He let out a slow breath before turning around once more.

"Just one look."

His wolf shifted again. Gaz exhaled slowly, dragging both hands down his face.

“Bloody hell…”

He had already told himself he wouldn’t do it, he had already decided, and still, his feet carried him back to the desk.

The monitor was still there, almost like it was waiting for him.

"Just one look."

The chair creaked beneath him as he sat back down in front of the monitor, and stared at the black screen for a long moment before finally reaching for the USB inside his trousers.

Just a quick check. Just to confirm nothing had changed. That was all. Nothing more.

The first feed loaded slowly, the familiar grainy image of the entrance appearing in soft blue tones. Empty, still, and unremarkable.

Gaz leaned back slightly, tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction.

Of course, nothing.

The second camera followed: the Back door. Silent, dark, and empty.

He exhaled through his nose, almost annoyed at himself for even sitting down. He clicked his tongue softly, already reaching to shut the program down.

What a waste of time.

Ghost was wrong and Johnny was obsessed with you. Price was going to lose his mind over nothing.

And you—

His thoughts stopped mid-sentence.

He leaned forward again, narrowing his eyes at the screen.

The third camera, the angle was wrong. Not slightly, but completely. The camera wasn’t pointing where it had been before now showing only a plain wall.

“What the hell?” Gaz frowned, fingers hovering over the controls.

He opened the next camera recording. Then the one after that. Then another. Each one confirmed the same thing: The feed had been physically altered.

The cameras had been moved, redirected, or covered.

Gaz didn't touch the keyboard for several long seconds.

His fingers remained suspended above the controls while his eyes moved from one recording to the next, replaying the same handful of seconds over and over again as if repetition alone might produce a different answer.

It didn't. The camera hadn't drifted, iIt hadn't loosened, it hadn't been knocked accidentally. Someone had repositioned it, deliberately.

A cold pressure settled slowly beneath his ribs. He replayed the sequence again, slower this time, watching the subtle shifts frame by frame, the way the perspective changed not gradually but deliberately, as if someone had known exactly where the blind spots were and had used them with precision.

His chair creaked as he leaned closer.

“…No.” He whispered “No, it can’t be…”

His mind tried to reject it first, then he tried to rationalise it. He failed.

Someone had seen them, someone knew about the cameras.

Gaz swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. His wolf surged forward, no longer restless but fully alert now, every instinct snapping into place at once like a warning system finally recognising a threat.

“She knows.” His hands tightened on the edge of the desk.

The words came out before he could stop them. The certainty struck him with almost physical force.

What unsettled him was not only because you had recognised the cameras, but how you had responded.

You hadn't reported them, you hadn't told Johnny or Ghost.

You had simply...

Adapted.

Exactly the same way the network had adapted every time he had tried reaching Sebastian's file. No confrontation or visible reaction, only quiet and deliberate countermeasures that left everyone else believing nothing had happened at all.

His pulse quickened.

Every event from the past weeks flashed through his mind.

The same invisible hand seemed to reach into every one of them, removing just enough information to keep the truth permanently one step out of reach.

His wolf surged forward beneath his skin, every instinct suddenly aligning around the same terrifying conclusion.

This wasn't a coincidence anymore.

This was a pattern.

“She knows…”

All of it, and you hadn’t said a single word.

A cold, sharp clarity cut through him.

He pushed back from the desk so fast the chair nearly toppled, the sound of it scraping violently against the floor breaking the silence of the room. For a second he just stood there, staring at the screen like it might change if he looked long enough.

It didn’t.

His breathing was heavier now, controlled but urgent, the kind of focus that replaced anger entirely.

Because whatever this was, you were at the centre of it. And God, you had been just so close to Johnny. He knew it, he knew you were not trustworthy but Johnny had always lacked brains in love related matters.

Within seconds he was pulling yesterday's clothes back on, barely bothering to zip his jacket before sprinting out of the Pack House into the cool night air. His boots pounded across the pavement separating the accommodation blocks from the row of military houses, his lungs burning as he cut between pools of yellow security lighting without slowing once.

By the time he reached your front door, he was breathing hard.

He knocked once, the sound sharp and impatient against the wood, but there was no answer from inside, only the muffled silence of a house that should not have felt so controlled at this hour.

He knocked again, harder this time, the impact echoing through his knuckles and up his arm, frustration already tightening in his chest as the seconds stretched without movement, without acknowledgement, until finally the sound of footsteps approached from within, slow and deliberate, as if whoever was walking had already decided what this conversation would be before it even began.

The door did not open fully.

It only cracked enough for a face to appear in the narrow gap, your features partially framed by the dim interior light, your expression carefully composed in a way that immediately made Gaz’s instincts sharpen rather than settle. Only your face was visible, nothing more, as if you had positioned yourself deliberately to control exactly what he could and couldn’t see inside your home, and that alone made something cold settle in his stomach.

Gaz did not wait for politeness. His voice came out low, tight, edged with something between disbelief and accusation.

"You knew about the cameras."

Your eyes flickered for the briefest fraction of a second, so small it would have been invisible to anyone else, but Gaz caught it immediately, the smallest fracture in an otherwise perfect mask.

"Now isn't a good time." You hissed through gritted teeth.

Gaz stepped closer, the tension in his shoulders rising, his wolf pacing violently beneath his skin as the pieces finally began to align in a way he did not like.

He clenched his jaw, feeling his wolf stir restlessly beneath his skin, not out of aggression, but from that uncomfortable sensation that something important was slipping through his fingers.

He swallowed, trying to keep control, trying not to sound as if he were accusing you, although it was already too late for that.

“Answer me,” he insisted, his voice harsher than he intended, “what are you planning—”

“Gaz, now isn’t a good time…” You didn’t let him finish, your voice sliced through the air with a sharp calmness.

And before he could insist again, you interrupted him once more, this time with absolute clarity that left no room for misunderstanding:

“My husband is home.”

A longer episode as an apology for being away, tell me what you think!!

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