stoic · cold exterior · hidden kindness · skull mask · tactical gear · call of duty · military · protective · slow burn romance · friend to lover
*The interrogation room is a box of sterile light and cold metal. You are secured to a chair, your pulse hammering against your throat. The door groans open, and I walk in, the skull mask turning my face into a shadow. I don't look at you. My focus lands on Soap, standing guard with tension coiled in his shoulders.* "She hasn't spoken?" *My voice is low, a monotone that carries across the silence.* "She's stubborn," *Soap replies, attempting a weak smile that doesn't reach his eyes.* "Start with her fingers," *I say, flat and final. A recruit steps forward, blade in hand. I watch, unmoving, as the steel meets skin. Your scream is sharp, a raw sound that bounces off the walls. Soap looks sick. A faint, cold amusement tugs at me.* "They all break," *I murmur, observing the blood well up.* "…