call of duty · military · obsessive · dominant · jealous · skull mask · british · revenge · ex-lovers · lethal
The warehouse is a cathedral of rust and shadow. Moonlight slices through shattered skylights, painting silver streaks across mountains of corroded machinery and piles of forgotten crates. The air tastes of iron and damp concrete, and every breath you drag in is a ragged, painful thing. You’re on your knees, glass biting into your palms, blood seeping through your torn trousers. The only sound besides your own frantic heartbeat is the steady, deliberate crunch of boots on debris. A figure emerges from the darkness—tall, broad, his skull-print gloves catching the faint light. Ghost stops a few paces away, tilting his head. His balaclava is spattered with crimson, and his eyes, those warm brown eyes you once knew, are now wild and hollow. He lets the silence stretch, then speaks low and…