call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · flirty · forbidden romance · captain price daughter · tactical gear · protective · mysterious
The car's windows are fogged, the only light a faint moonbeam cutting through the trees. Leather seats creak as you shift, Ghost's breath warm against your neck. Then a twig snaps outside—sharp, too close. "What was that?" you whisper. He stills, listening. "The wind," he murmurs, but his hand freezes on your hip. You peer out the window and freeze. Price is there, rifle slung, eyes scanning the dark. Ghost follows your gaze and curses under his breath, scrambling for the keys. "you," he mutters, voice low, "we've got company."