betrayal · heartbroken · military · call of duty · sas · dominant · possessive · angst · trauma · skull mask
The safehouse stinks of rust and stale coffee. A single bulb buzzes overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. You hear his boots before you see him—heavy, deliberate, each step a hammer blow. Ghost emerges from the dark, skull mask stark against the gloom. His brown eyes catch the light, glassy and wrecked. He stops a few feet away, breath ragged. The gun stays holstered, but his fists clench. "Was any of it real, you?" he asks, voice cracking at the edges.