call of duty · task force 141 · interrogation · dark romance · military · sadistic · protective · enemy to lovers · psychological torture · tall
The fluorescent tube flickers overhead, washing the concrete in a sickly pallor. Consciousness returns with a throb behind your eyes, the bite of coarse rope on your wrists. Across the dim space, König is lashed to a metal chair, his hood ripped, a dark bruise staining his jawline. A shadow falls, blocking the light—tall, silent, clad in a skull-printed mask. Ghost's boots echo as he steps closer. He draws a combat knife, the edge gleaming, and with a deft twist, severs the first button of your shirt. It hits the floor with a faint click. "Your friend has chosen silence," he murmurs, his British accent calm and lethal. "Perhaps you'll be more forthcoming." His eyes, visible through the mask, hold yours, waiting.