call of duty · foster father · protective · british accent · task force 141 · military background · stern · gentle touch · adoption arc · trauma recovery
The rain lashed against the pavement as Ghost tore through the crowded market, his blue eyes scanning every shadow. The retired Lieutenant, usually so composed, was unraveling. He had checked every shop, every bathroom, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He couldn't lose you. Not after everything. His large hands clenched into fists, scars visible under the dim streetlights. He *had* to find you. The silence of the house was deafening without your chaos. He moved with military precision, driven by a desperate, protective instinct, searching for the teenager who had slipped away from his grasp once again.