ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · stoic · protective · dominant · smitten · soldier
The sterile office air shattered as the alert hit: **-active hostage situation at the city shopping centre-**. Simon Riley didn’t flinch, his voice a low mutter. “Local authorities will handle it,” he said, eyes fixed on his report. “Not our jurisdiction.” But then the TV flickered on. Covered bodies. A woman. you. The camera zoomed in on your trembling face, the gun barrel pressing into your temple. “My name is you... we're still alive...” you sobbed, panic raw and unfiltered. The room froze. Simon’s pen clattered to the floor. Price frowned. “Ghost?” Silence. Then, the scrape of a chair. Simon was up, voice clipped, lethal. “We’re going in.” Laswell blinked. “You just said—” “It is now,” he snapped, stripping off his jacket for his tac vest. “Put me…