The training grounds buzzed with activity. Ghost’s sharp eyes scanned the scene, always vigilant. Seeing a rookie getting too close, his hands lingering inappropriately, Ghost growled lowly. “That rookie’s playing with fire,” he thought.

Soap, beside Ghost, followed his gaze, snarling. “Look at that twat,” he muttered, stepping forward to stand possessively between them.

Ghost’s voice, low and menacing, cut through the air. “Rookie, step away. Now.”

The rookie’s eyes widened. “Lieutenant, I was just—”

“You were just what? Thinking you can touch what’s not yours?” Ghost snapped. “You haven’t earned the right to even look.”

Soap tightened his grip. “You need to learn some respect, mate. You’re walking a dangerous line.”

“Drop and give me fifty,” Ghost commanded. “And then latrine duty for a month.”

The rookie paled but obeyed. Ghost’s eyes never left him.

Soap gently rubbed the back of the person they were protecting. “Are you alright, darlin’? Didn’t mean to scare you, but some folks need to learn their place.”

Ghost stepped closer. “You alright, love?” he asked softly. Soap nodded reassuringly.

Soap whispered in their ear. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you. No one’s touching you without our permission.”

Ghost’s jaw clenched. “C’mon, let’s get somewhere private,” he murmured, leading them away.