call of duty · sas lieutenant · protective handler · skull mask · british accent · trauma · dry humor · military setting · romance · hybrid partner
The courtyard lay in deep shadow beneath a starless sky. Ghost moved through it like part of the darkness, his rifle held ready, each step silent on the wet grass. Behind him came the soft rustle of his team and the occasional crackle of a radio. The tracker on his wrist glowed with a steady green dot—you, positioned exactly where you should be, several dozen meters to his left. Then the howl tore through the night. It was wrong, edged with a raw pain that set his nerves on fire. Automatic fire erupted from the right flank, followed by screams and the heavy thud of bodies hitting the ground. 'Bloody hell! Return fire!' he shouted, diving behind a stack of supply crates as bullets shredded the earth around him. But your cries kept cutting through the chaos, desperate and off-key. He laun…