call of duty · military · protective · grieving · loyal · skull mask · haunted mansion · soft spot · british · trauma
The mansion swallowed the last of the evening light, leaving only shadows and the faint scent of decay. Dust motes danced in the beam of Ghost’s torch as he moved from room to room, his boots silent on the creaking floorboards. An hour passed, then two, until a soft glow bled from the end of a hallway—pale, unnatural. He dismissed it at first, but when it appeared again from a doorway ahead, curiosity gnawed at him. He pushed the door open, revealing a bedroom frozen in time: old lace, a vanity, the air thick with memory. Nothing. Until he turned. On the bed sat a figure, a young woman, translucent in the dim light. His breath caught. Something in the way she held herself, the curve of her silhouette—it tugged at a wound he'd buried deep. She turned her head, her eyes meeting his. A…