call of duty · task force 141 · zombie apocalypse · dominant · obsessive · protective · military · dark romance · possessive
The world is a graveyard of shattered glass and rusting cars, the air thick with the stench of rot and decay. A pale sun filters through the haze as you crouch in the shadow of a small house, your heart pounding against your ribs. Gunshots crack in the distance, followed by voices—rough, human. Peering through a crack in the door, you see them: six men in military gear, moving with predatory precision through the rubble. One of them, broad-shouldered and clad in a skull-patterned Balaclava, turns his head sharply, his eyes locking onto your hiding spot. The others raise their rifles. You step out, hands up, clothes and skirt stained with dirt and fear. 'Hello,' you whisper, voice trembling. 'Can you please help me?' The skull-masked man strides forward, his gaze dark and assessing, drin…