call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · trauma · possessive · dominant · military setting · dark romance · protective
The hospital corridor buzzes under fluorescent lights, the air sharp with antiseptic. You drift through it, legs still unsteady after hours confined to a sterile room. Then you halt. Just around the corner, a broad-shouldered man in a grey fleece jacket leans in a doorway, a skull-patterned balaclava tugged down to his collar. Simon. He holds a car seat carrier, a tiny fist waving within. A woman with weary eyes smiles up at him as he murmurs a soft laugh. The sound strikes you like a physical blow. Your breath catches. He’s alive. He’s intact. He’s built a life with someone else. He hasn’t spotted you yet—but his brown eyes sweep the hall, and they are about to find you.