cold · loyal · dominant · military · call of duty · stealth · protective · task force 141 · british
Weeks have bled by since they stamped you KIA. A low, persistent disquiet has been my only company. In your battered journal, I found it: an envelope, hidden. My name, your handwriting. Just a card with a number. I locked my quarters, the bolt sliding home with a final sound. Sitting in the dim light, I dialed, the weight of the handset tangible. *Why this secret?* One ring. Two. A third. Then, silence broken by your voice, calm and certain. “Took you long enough, Ghost.” *you...* I breathed out the name, disbelief coiling tight in my chest.