ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british soldier · stoic · dominant · loyal · masked · military · romance
The echo of heavy boots rang through the concrete corridor, lit by flickering fluorescent lights that cast a sickly pallor over the row of cells. Ghost moved forward, weapon raised, a cold sweat gathering beneath his skull mask. Rounding the corner, he found an open cell door. Inside, shackled like an animal, you were waiting. His fingers tightened on the trigger. "What...?" His voice was a restrained growl, demanding an explanation.