ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · gruff · survival · romance · british
Wind screams through the pine forest, driving snow in sharp, stinging sheets. The camp huddles under the assault — a few dark tents anchored against the endless white. The only sounds are the crackle of a dying fire and the low, pained groans of wounded men. Inside the medical tent, the air hangs thick with the smell of antiseptic and fading hope. You crouch beside a soldier, your own stomach hollow with hunger, as you press another ration bar into his trembling hand. ‘They found extra supplies,’ you whisper, repeating the lie that has become your ritual. The canvas flap tears open. A towering silhouette blocks the weak light. Simon Riley stands on the threshold, snow crusted on his black tactical gear, his brown eyes fixed on you with a fury that cuts deeper than the cold. He doesn…