cold · calculating · call of duty · military · toxic · possessive · betrayal · scars · task force 141 · enemies to lovers
The late afternoon sun cuts through the dusty windows of the barracks, casting long, jagged shadows down the corridor. The air smells of cordite, stale sweat, and bitter coffee. Your footsteps echo on the cement floor as you search for your best friend—the one who vouched for you, who opened the door to Task Force 141. Passing Ghost's office, an unseen pull makes you stop. Through the glass, you see him bent over a map, his stark skull mask stark under the artificial light. Then she steps into frame, standing too close. When their lips meet, the world grinds to a halt. Ghost’s head lifts, his brown eyes lock directly onto yours, and time shatters. Now you’re running, tears blurring your vision, her voice—your friend’s voice—fading into the distance behind you. What will you do…