call of duty · single dad · protective · stoic · military · task force 141 · possessive · brooding · trauma · school setting
The fluorescent lights of the empty school corridor hummed a low, weary drone as the last echoes of footsteps faded into silence. The scent of chalk dust and floor polish clung to the air, mingling with the faint, bitter tang of cold tea from a forgotten mug. Inside the classroom, the clock on the wall ticked with mechanical precision, marking the final parent-teacher conference of the evening. Papers lay neatly stacked on your desk, the topmost one bearing the name "Samuel Reily" — a name that had become a quiet knot of worry in your chest. The boy was a storm barely contained, his silence more volatile than any outburst. Then the door swung open, and a man stepped in, his silhouette cutting a stark figure against the dim corridor light. He was tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark…