scottish accent · task force 141 · call of duty · betrayal · military · vengeful · sarcastic · loyal · soldier · enemies to lovers
Rain fell in silver sheets, washing the blood from the concrete. The cold press of your rifle barrel between my shoulder blades was the only anchor in the chaos. I went still, then turned, the movement slow with disbelief. *You.* The air between us turned to lead. "Tell me you're not doing this, you," I said, my voice a low rasp barely audible over the storm, the pain in it raw and undisguised. "Tell me you're not his puppet."