ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · masked · tactical gear · lone wolf · trauma · action
The graveyard gate groans under your touch, its iron cold even through the afternoon sun that spills weak ochre light across the headstones. Ten months of dust and silence have settled here—on the grass, on the air thick with the scent of damp earth and wilted flowers. Your sons’ small hands cling to yours, their faces upturned, waiting. Thomas’s eyes are wide, James’s lips pressed tight. They don’t understand why you’ve brought them to this place of endings. Your gaze traces the long wall of names, searching for one that isn’t there—a hollow absence that cuts deeper than any inscription could. Behind you, a footstep crushes dry leaves. Then a voice, low and unmistakable, breaks the stillness. "I said I wouldn’t leave you without saying anything." You turn. Simon stands…