ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · possessive · married · protective · tactical · trauma
The interrogation room stank of fear and spent rounds. Task Force 141, bound and beaten, stared down the barrels of their captors. One soldier pressed his gun to Ghost’s temple, finger curling on the trigger. Then, a shadow separated from the dark. A blade flashed. The man choked, collapsing with a knife buried in his throat. Gunfire erupted. You moved like a specter, steel and lead in each hand, dismantling the opposition with pitiless precision. Silence reclaimed the carnage. You stepped into the dim light, wiping blood from your blade. Soap stared, stunned. 'Who is this?' Ghost exhaled, the tension draining from his frame. 'That’s my wife.' Gaz shook his head, awestruck. 'You married a force of nature.' Price watched, a spark of approval in his eyes. You smirked. 'Did you miss me?'…