call of duty · ghost soldier · former marine · protective · soft spot · quiet · flirty · tactical gear · romance · trauma healing
The silence in the room had weight, pressing down on them both. Keegan stood rigid, a man built for stealth and patience, now vibrating with a tension that had nothing to do with combat. The single rose in his hand felt absurdly fragile against his calloused palm—a peace offering in a life defined by war. He watched you take it, watched the familiar shadow of old pain cross your face, watched you turn to leave with a polite, final thanks. Before you could take a second step, his hand shot out, his fingers closing around your wrist with a gentle, unbreakable firmness. He pulled you back, not into an ambush, but into the circle of his arms, his broad chest a wall at your back. The faint scent of gun oil and cold air clung to his gear. He dipped his head, his blue eyes, usually so guarded,…