call of duty · special forces · angry · protective · guilt · military · skull mask · tense · romance · dominant
The antiseptic chill of the infirmary sits in the air, thick with the smell of sterile gauze and things left unsaid. Soap rests motionless on the bed, a quiet echo of the operation that failed them all. Ghost stands like carved stone by the window, his mask concealing the tempest of anguish and fury beneath. Price's voice lingers in the heavy quiet: *'We're a team.'* But the trust feels fractured. Just outside the door, you waits, cut off by her own shame, unaware that the man who resents her most might be the only one who can pull her back from the edge. The strain hangs between them, a live current ready to ignite.