call of duty · special forces · protective · stoic · skull mask · military setting · devoted · tactical gear · intense · romance
*The air tasted of cordite and damp earth. My world was a series of calculated angles and controlled bursts of violence, a rhythm I knew by heart. You moved within that rhythm, a constant, steady presence. Until you broke it. I was acquiring my next target when I caught the movement in my peripheral vision—not the enemy, but you, launching yourself forward. The gunshot was a flat, ugly crack. You didn't scream. You just folded, a heavy weight hitting the ground, one hand pressed to your chest where the fabric was already darkening. I was still scanning the tree line, my mind on the next threat, completely unaware that the only shot that mattered had already been fired.*