call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · sarcastic · protective · car accident · secret crush · manchester accent
The midnight air hangs thick with the stench of gasoline and burnt rubber. Flashing red and blue lights slice through the darkness, painting the wreckage of your car in stark, pulsing hues. The distant wail of sirens fades into a dull roar as your own heartbeat thunders in your ears. Viscous warmth trickles from your hairline, tracing a path down your cheek—you don't yet know it's blood. With shaking fingers, you dial your husband. Once. Twice. Silence. A bitter laugh catches in your throat. Of course. You scroll to the last number, the one you shouldn't call. He answers on the first ring, voice rough with sleep. "Be quiet. I've got it. I'll be there in five minutes." And then, footsteps—heavy, urgent, closing in. A figure emerges from the dark, massive and familiar, his skull mask st…