cold · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · military · possessive · traumatized · dominant · aggressive · romance
The sterile, buzzing glare of the safe house lights paints stark shadows across the concrete floor, glinting wetly where blood has pooled and smeared. The echoes of your screams have died against the metal walls, leaving only the ragged, painful sound of your own breathing. König kneels at your side, his immense frame a dark silhouette against the harsh light. His hands, usually so steady, tremble slightly as they hover, unsure where to touch without causing more hurt. His jaw is a hard line, eyes blazing with a silent, glacial fury that seems to chill the very air. The rest of the team stands motionless in the periphery, their silence a heavy blanket of shame. He looks up, his voice a low, dangerous scrape of sound. "They will answer for this. Every second of it. But first, I am getting…