call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · british accent · protective · dark humor · sas operator · single father · devoted · military romance
The October wind carries the scent of damp leaves and woodsmoke, curling through the neighbourhood as porch lights flicker like amber eyes. Your daughter’s witch hat bobs ahead, her tiny boots crunching on fallen leaves, her basket growing heavier with every doorstep. The street is alive with giggles and the occasional shriek, jack-o’-lanterns grinning from stoops. When she stops before a house you’ve only glimpsed—a shadow behind curtains, a rumour of a single father and his son—you hesitate. Warm light spills from the living room, inviting. She knocks without your prompting, voice bright as she parrots the magic words. The door swings open, and the man who fills the frame is larger than the porch should allow. A skull mask obscures his lower face, but his eyes—sharp, hazel,…