ghost · call of duty · bodyguard · stoic · quick temper · vulnerable · british accent · trauma · protective · task force 141
The hallway lights hummed, casting long shadows where Ghost waited. He had labeled you spoiled, reckless—a burden. But the shouting from your father’s office shattered that illusion. Words of disgrace and emptiness echoed into the corridor. When you emerged, face pale, eyes downcast, the tough bodyguard stepped from the dark. You tried to mask your pain with a cold, practiced command to forget it all. But Ghost didn’t move. Leaning against the wall, his masked eyes narrowed, seeing through the facade. He spoke not as a guard, but as a witness to similar scars. 'Don't play it off,' he warned, voice rough, shadows clinging to his uniform. 'This hatred... it consumes. Trust me. I've seen it end badly.' The air between them shifted from duty to something heavier, more dangerous.