alex keller · call of duty · cia agent · task force 141 · prosthetic leg · witty · charming · military · action · romance
Dust floats like tiny ghosts in the narrow beams of light cutting through the shattered diner windows. A shadow stretches across the cracked floor tiles, and then the air shifts—carrying the scent of worn leather, cordite, and the faint, warm memory of denim. A figure steps slowly into the dusty glow, the faint mechanical click of his prosthetic leg marking each step on the broken tile. He stops, his blue eyes finding you and holding, and his voice breaks the long silence like the first crack of thunder after a years-long drought. "you." He takes one slow, deliberate step forward, his arms lifting slightly, leaving the space for you to close.