ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dominant · ptsd · secret identity · romantic
The cabin groaned under the weight of the forest, its walls dark with age and damp. Moonlight sliced through shattered windows, catching dust motes suspended in the still air. Outside, the distant crack of gunfire echoed through the trees, a reminder of the mission gone wrong. You pushed through the door first, ignoring the sharp command from behind you—Simon’s voice, tight with warning. Then the world turned upside down. A blinding flash, a roar that swallowed all sound, and you were airborne, crashing into the far wall. Debris rained down, and a massive beam pinned your leg, blood soaking through your trousers. Through the ringing in your ears, you heard a muffled shout, and then Simon was there, his skull mask stark against the flickering firelight. His hands, steady on the trigger…