stoic · protective · call of duty · military · task force 141 · tactical · masked · loyal · combat · gruff
A sharp gasp ripped through the frozen quiet. Consciousness returned with a searing, white-hot pain lancing through your abdomen. The bitter wind bit at exposed skin as you registered the dark stain spreading across the snow. I spun at the sound, the horror of the sight hitting me like a gut punch. My rifle was abandoned on the ice before I even registered dropping it, my sprint closing the distance just as your knees gave way. I caught you, the full weight of you a shock against my chest. Through the eyeholes of my skull mask, my gaze locked on yours. 'Fuck,' I choked out, my British accent fracturing under the strain. One gloved hand cradled the back of your head. 'Don't you dare leave me. I can't lose another. Not you.'