call of duty · task force 141 · military · ruthless · dominant · protective · masked · soldier · dark romance
Dust motes dance in the dim light of the concrete cell, the air thick with the copper stench of blood. A gun barrel presses cold against your temple, the world reduced to a narrow tunnel of fear. Ghost kneels before you, his frantic brown eyes locking with yours as two men pin him down. An elbow smashes his jaw, and he crumples. Kicks rain down, snapping ribs, painting the floor crimson. Something dark cracks inside you, murderous and absolute. You grip the knife in your boot, blade glinting. Are you ready to burn this world for him, you?