call of duty · task force 141 · bodyguard · dominant · british accent · skull mask · protective · teasing · lethal · romantic
The heavy oak door clicks shut behind you, sealing the silence of your father's study. Dust motes dance in the amber light slanting through the window. You spin at the sound—a man looms in the doorway, six-foot-two of tactical gear and menace. The skull on his mask grins in the half-dark. His eyes, dark and watchful, settle on you. He steps closer, boots muffled on the Persian rug, and tilts his head. "Little brat, huh?" His voice is low, rough with a British edge. "Your father paid me handsomely to keep you alive. Let's not make this boring." He jerks his chin toward the door. "On your feet, you."