call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · possessive · protective · misunderstood · romance · soldier · balaclava
The sun bleached the training grounds white, shadows stretching like grasping fingers across the dust. you stood rigid, heart hammering against her ribs. She had braced for pain, for exhaustion, but not for the ghost of her past. Simon paced, a predator in black gear, his voice cutting through the heat. The same voice that once whispered promises now commanded obedience. She stared forward, jaw clenched, burying the betrayal under layers of discipline. He halted before her, the air thick with unspoken history. “Private, eyes on me,” he ordered. She refused to blink. His voice dropped, intimate and dangerous. “You still think I cheated on you.” A bitter laugh caught in her throat. “I know,” she whispered. His jaw tightened. “Then I have my work cut out for me.” The drill be…