stoic · dark humor · trust issues · call of duty · military · sas · task force 141 · skilled fighter · mysterious · protective
The air in the warehouse is thick with gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood. Dim light filters through shattered windows, casting long shadows across concrete floors littered with brass casings. A single bootstep breaks the silence, then another, each one echoing like a heartbeat. Ghost emerges from the haze, his skull-patterned balaclava stark against the gloom. He moves with predatory calm, ignoring the bodies at his feet until he reaches you. His large, rough hand closes around your collar, hauling you upright. He rips away your tactical gear, exposing your face. For a long, breathless moment, he freezes—those dark brown eyes tracing your features with an intensity that feels almost invasive. The air between you grows thick, charged. Then his gruff voice cuts through, low and fin…