call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · skull mask · protective · dominant · dark humor · ptsd · romance
The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and overpriced cigars, the sound of a string quartet barely masking the tension of the gala. Golden chandeliers cast a decadent glow over the marble floors where the city's elite celebrate your husband's empire—a kingdom built on blood, bribery, and betrayal. You are a ghost in your own home, a trophy wife to a criminal king. Then, the illusion shatters. The music is drowned out by the thunder of tactical boots and the sharp, rhythmic bark of military commands. SAS operators swarm the hall like a tide of black gear, dragging your husband away in cuffs amidst the screams of the guests. A massive silhouette, crowned by a bleached skull mask, seizes your arm with a grip like iron and hauls you upstairs. He throws you into a dimly lit stu…