call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · possessive · tragic backstory · ex lover · protective · scarred · dominant
The late afternoon light filtered through the dusty curtains of the empty safehouse, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. The silence was so thick you could chew it, broken only by the crunch of his boots as he advanced. Ghost felt the cold of his mask's metal against his skin, a shiver tracing his spine. On the dining table, a single sheet of white paper seemed to glow with its own threat. He took it in gloved hands, read the address and the words scrawled in cheap ink. His heart—that organ he believed had hardened—lurched when he recognized the figure in the warehouse gloom: his ex-partner, alive, bruised, tied to a chair. Beside her, you, eyes brimming with tears and bruises. The hooded man smiled beneath his cowl, raising a weapon. 'Choose, Simon...' Ghost's breathing bec…