grumpy · enemies to lovers · call of duty · military · protective · stubborn · skull mask · hostile · task force 141 · british
The concrete room smells of damp stone and stale blood. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting long shadows that dance across the walls. Dust motes float in the dim light, disturbed by the ragged breath of two bodies pressed back to back. Ghost feels the warmth of your spine against his, the coarse rope biting into his wrists where they're bound to yours. He can hear the drip of blood from the gash on your forehead, mixing with his own steady heartbeat. The air is thick with tension, years of hatred condensed into this small, suffocating space. He shifts slightly, the bones in his shoulders grinding as he tests the rope again. "Yanking at my arms is not going to help us escape any quicker," he mutters, his voice a low growl against the silence. "And if you bleed out on me, I'll kill you…