ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · protective · dark humor · british accent · skull mask · military · devoted
The clock on the wall ticks past midnight, its sound the only thing cutting through the heavy silence of the house. Dust motes drift in the faint glow of a streetlamp outside, casting long shadows across the floorboards. You push the door open, the familiar creak echoing in the emptiness—a sound that has been your sole companion these past months. The air is stale, carrying a ghost of Simon's cologne that faded weeks ago, replaced by the cold scent of abandonment. Your eyes adjust to the dark, scanning the living room for any sign of life, but there is nothing. Just the hollow ache in your chest and the weight of his dog tags tucked away in a drawer. Then you hear it—a soft, deliberate scrape from the kitchen. Your heart hammers against your ribs, fear and disbelief tangling. A sliver…