The back office smelled of engine oil, burnt fuses, and stale coffee. Nyra sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a pile of salvaged parts, her hands greasy, curls sticking damply to her forehead. 

She hummed under her breath, a rhythm to keep her focused amidst the lingering tension of the last few nights. 

Every socket, every wire, every stripped screw told a story of survival.

"Walk with me."

Nyra looked up, wrenches in hand. Kane stood in the doorway, cigarette dangling from his fingers, eyes sharp, voice void of humor. Seemed no room for argument. She exhaled and tossed a small gear into the box, following him into the alley.

The rain had eased to a drizzle, slicking the asphalt with a silver sheen. 

The night carried the faint echo of last night's chaos, muffled gunfire and the hiss of hydraulics in her mind. Ghost had been here, in this very alley, cleaning blood from his hands. 

Nyra glanced around, half-expecting to see the masked mercenary standing in the shadows, silent, untouchable.

Kane lit a cigarette, the flame briefly illuminating his face. He inhaled, the smoke curling toward the overhang, then flicked it to the side without offering her one. Nyra didn't ask.

"Ghost destroys everything he touches," Kane said bluntly, exhaling a cloud of smoke that stung Nyra's eyes. His gaze was steady, unwavering. "Especially attachments. He'll burn himself down before he lets anyone close. Seen it happen too many times."

Nyra tilted her head, letting her curls fall free from the damp tie at her neck. She crossed her arms over her chest, one brow quirked. "Sounds like he's had practice."

Kane's jaw tightened, the ember at the tip of his cigarette glowing orange in the dim light. "He has. Every time, it ends the same. Him isolated. Team left to pick up the pieces. Always the same."

She nodded slowly, her honey eyes fixed on his, reading the weight behind his words. "And yet, here I am. Someone should probably stop letting him do that alone."

Kane stared at her, expression conflicted. There was no judgment, no condescension, only the kind of sharp, cold respect that came from experience. The kind that recognized a potential threat—but also a potential ally.

"You're either the best or worst thing that's happened to him," Kane said, tone rough but deliberate.

Nyra smirked, twisting a curl around her finger. "Probably both. Story of my life."

The alley felt smaller, more intense, the lingering wet scent of rain mixing with the metallic tang of the garage. Nyra could see the ghost of Ghost in the shadows, looming, silent, unyielding. 

The idea that she could get under his skin, could be something more than just a distraction, sent a pulse through her chest she couldn't quiet.

Kane's gaze softened, just slightly. A flicker of something unspoken passed between them—warning, respect, and an acknowledgment that Nyra wasn't just another civilian or mechanic. She was a force.

"He doesn't do this for anyone," Kane continued. "He's a machine, a soldier, a killer who wears a mask so nobody sees the man underneath. He doesn't let anyone in. Not fully. Not ever. That's why he's dangerous to himself and anyone who gets close."

Nyra's lips curved into a faint grin. "Well, lucky me. I don't scare easy. And he seems… complicated enough to keep life interesting."

Kane shook his head, exhaling smoke. "Complicated doesn't even cover it. He's a warzone, Nyra. And you—" he gestured vaguely at her, curls damp from the rain—"you're running straight into it."

She cocked her head, eyes narrowing playfully. "And someone should probably make sure I don't get buried under the rubble. Guess that's your job now."

He raised an eyebrow, smoke curling between them like a warning. "I'd say it's more like you're testing him. And you're winning."

Nyra's pulse quickened. The words were simple, but Kane's tone carried weight, a reflection of the danger she was flirting with every time she crossed Ghost. Every sarcastic quip, every fearless glance, every wrench she tossed into his line of sight—it all chipped away at his carefully maintained armor.

"And he's worth it," she added quietly, almost to herself. "Every gruff word, every terrifying glare, every ridiculous mask."

Kane exhaled, eyes flicking toward the alley's far end where the streetlight glinted on wet pavement. "Just remember," he said softly, almost cautiously, "he'll destroy himself before he lets anyone—anyone—really close. You're good at ignoring danger, Quinn, but don't let him make you a casualty."

Nyra met his eyes evenly, shrugging. "Someone has to be stubborn enough to make him see he can survive

with

 someone."

A tense silence fell between them, broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional drip of water 

from the fire escape. Kane looked at her, assessing. She wasn't naïve. She wasn't reckless. She was the kind of person who could survive this world—and maybe even survive Ghost.

"And if he burns himself?" Kane asked, voice low, like confessing a fear.

Nyra's grin widened, mischievous but oddly resolute. "Then someone better be there to put out the fire."

Kane allowed himself a slow, deliberate nod. There was something in her—unyielding, untouchable, unpredictable—that even he had to respect. Maybe even admire.

"You're either going to save him," Kane said, voice rough as gravel, "or get burned in the process."

Nyra stepped closer, her wet curls brushing her shoulders, eyes glinting with quiet defiance. "Then I guess it's a good thing I'm stubborn as hell."

For a heartbeat, the rain didn't matter. The alley didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the silent agreement that they'd each do their part. Kane knew she didn't understand the full scale of Ghost's world yet. He also knew she would *try* anyway. And in that stubborn, chaotic way, she might just be the one who makes the masked mercenary—his Alpha, his war machine—remember what it meant to be human again.

"Stay safe," Kane murmured, almost a warning, almost a hope.

"Always," Nyra replied, voice steady, but there was a fire in it now. Not reckless chaos, not humor, but a promise.

She turned back toward the garage, gears and engines and BLACK VEIL members sprawled across the space like a storm left in ruins, and for the first time in a long time, Kane believed maybe—just maybe—someone could keep Ghost from burning down entirely.