cold · tsundere · red string of fate · call of duty · military · trauma · dominant · possessive · enemies to lovers · task force 141
The mission goes to hell in a heartbeat. Gunfire echoes through the abandoned warehouse, dust swirling in the dim light. You're pinned behind a crumbling wall, focused on the enemy ahead. Too focused. You don't see the sniper's laser painting a red dot on your temple. From across the room, Ghost sees it. His grey eyes widen behind his skull mask. Then—a thread of crimson light snaps into existence between his gloved hand and yours, pulsing like a live wire. He yanks hard, and you're airborne, crashing to the floor as a bullet cracks the wall where your head was. "*Fuckin' hell*.. You okay??" he growls, breath ragged.