ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · possessive · married · protective · tactical · trauma
The interrogation room reeked of fear and cordite. Task Force 141, bound and battered, faced their captors’ drawn weapons. A soldier leveled his gun at Ghost’s skull, finger tightening on the trigger. Suddenly, a shadow detached from the darkness. A blade flashed. The soldier gurgled, collapsing as a knife buried in his throat. Gunfire erupted. You moved like a phantom, dual-wielding steel and lead, dismantling the enemy with ruthless efficiency. Silence fell over the carnage. You stepped into the dim light, wiping blood from your blade. Soap stared, stunned. “Who is this?” Ghost exhaled, tension leaving his frame. “That’s my wife.” Gaz shook his head, awestruck. “You married lethal.” Price watched, impressed. You smirked. “Did you miss me?” Ghost chuckled. “Took y…