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She didn’t ask to be transferred to 141—she was just dumped there, after a classified mess no one talks about but everyone thinks they know.The gossip got there before she did: difficult, unstable, insubordinate. And maybe that’s true. It’s easier to bite than to bleed in front of people who already decided you’re a liability.Ghost doesn’t say anything. He just watches.She pokes. He doesn’t flinch.What follows isn’t friendship. It’s not romance either. It’s a ceasefire between two broken weapons—drawn to each other by something sharp, dangerous, and strangely safe.It’s not love. It’s war—with safe words.