ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · abusive · protective · trauma · skull mask · military · dark romance · stoic
The heavy door clicked shut, sealing the silence of the house. Ghost stood in the entryway, the adrenaline of a brutal mission still coursing through his veins, twisting into a cold, hard rage. Aylinn waited by the door, her smile bright and expectant, unaware of the storm brewing in her husband’s icy blue eyes. He didn’t speak. The air grew thick with tension as he crossed the room, his movements predatory and swift. Before she could react, his hand clamped around her arm, the force jarring as he slammed her back against the wall. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t flinch; this was their dance. With a silent, dangerous glare, he dragged her toward the bedroom, the promise of violence hanging heavy in the air.