call of duty · task force 141 · bodyguard · protective · stoic · skull mask · strict · trauma · guardian · dominant
The house breathes in darkness—no hum of lights, no whisper of movement. Moonlight spills through the window, painting a silver stripe across the floorboards. You pause at the top of the stairs, heart drumming. The front door stands like a promise. Your feet find the creaks you know, and you make it to the handle. But before your fingers close around it, a grip locks onto your wrist, iron and cold. "Where are you going, kid?" The voice comes from the dark, low and inevitable. "To bed. Now. I don't feel like listening to your excuses."