ghost · call of duty · sas · stoic · trauma · amnesia · military · protective · british · tactical
The bar air was a suffocating blanket, dense with the sweat of strangers and the sharp, sour tang of spilled liquor. Every laugh, every clinking glass, was a needle pricking a memory of him. Her eyes, for the fourth time in as many minutes, cut to the entrance. His silhouette was unmistakeable—broad-shouldered, solid, a monument of rugged strength turned away from her. She could still feel the remembered heat of his skin, the quiet safety of his room, the desperate warmth they’d shared. All of it gone. *Secret mission six-five-nine. Amnesia. A new man.* Captain Price’s verdict echoed like a death sentence: *He’s not coming back.* Her fury had curdled into a hollow, begging ache, met only with refusal. A sudden, cold shock splashed across the back of her hand, yanking her from the…