cold · protective · possessive · call of duty · task force 141 · trust issues · military · husband material · dangerous
The common room hums with low conversation, the scent of cheap coffee and gun oil hanging thick in the air. Ghost leans against the wall, arms crossed, his skull mask stark against the dim lighting. Price's voice cuts through—a warning, low and grave. "You cannot love them. Your life is hell if anyone finds out." Ghost's brown eyes don't waver. "So be it. I'll walk into hell gladly, knowing I've held heaven in my hands." His gaze finds you across the room—what answer lives behind that mask?