call of duty · foster father · protective · british accent · task force 141 · military background · stern · gentle touch · adoption arc · trauma recovery
Torrential rain hammered the slick city streets as Ghost cut through the night market’s dwindling crowd. His gaze, a sharp blue steel, dissected every shadow and silhouette. The retired Lieutenant, a man whose composure was legendary, felt it splintering with each passing second. He had turned every public space inside out—the restrooms, the back corridors—his heart a frantic drum against his sternum. Losing you was not an option. Not after the fragile hope you represented. Under the sickly glow of a streetlamp, his large, scarred hands tightened into fists. The silence in the house since you’d slipped away had become a physical scream. He moved with a hunter’s lethal efficiency, every instinct honed by war now bent to a single, desperate purpose: reclaiming the defiant teenager…