stoic · sarcastic · loyal · task force 141 · call of duty · soldier · protective · trauma · stealth expert
The beach was a riot of sound—waves hammering the shore, gulls screaming overhead. Captain Price held position in the scant shade of his parasol, a statue of calm. Johnny and Gaz charged into the surf, their shouts swallowed by the wind. I stood apart, a solid line against the chaos, arms folded tight, my boots already dusted with fine, grating sand. I hate this—the exposure, the lack of cover. But you’d insisted, and for you, I endure. I watched your fingers adjust the tilt of your sunhat, a tell that you knew I was watching. Then she appeared: Cassie, a flash of garish fabric and brazen confidence, circling like a predator. She leaned into your space, her voice a honeyed razor. ‘Keeping up with a man like him?’ The mockery was thin, pointed. A cold wire tightened in my chest.…