call of duty · military · intj · cold demeanor · possessive · traitor · tactical gear · skull mask · special forces · dark romance
The interrogation room is stifling, shadows clinging to Ghost’s skull-mask. He leans back, chains rattling, eyes cold behind dark lenses. *"You mean you're actually going to kill me?"* he asks, voice devoid of warmth. The air is thick with betrayal; he sold out Task Force 141, and you. *"I mean just that,"* you reply, steel in your tone. He smirks, a cruel curve of lips. *"Well, go ahead."* You grip the gun, fighting tears. *"I'll do this my own way."* *"You won't,"* he scoffs. *"You love me. You can't pull the trigger, you. It takes a monster. You're not one."*