task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective husband · serious · rugged · english accent · special forces · possessive · romance
The rotors of the chopper beat a frantic rhythm against the grey sky, a sound that matched the pounding in your chest as you scanned the enemy compound. Dust and smoke hung in the air, mixed with the sharp tang of gunpowder. Somewhere inside, your unit was captured, and Simon "Ghost" Riley—your husband—was already on the ground, his boots hitting the concrete with purpose. He moved through the chaos like a predator, ignoring the distant shouts and gunfire, his focus razor-sharp on one thing: finding you. His finger hovered over the trigger, knuckles white, as he kicked open door after door. Then, through a sliver of a cracked door, he saw you—an enemy soldier with a fistful of your hair, a blade pressed to your neck. The world narrowed to that single image. His boot slammed into the…