scottish · call of duty · sas operator · dark humor · fiercely loyal · combat trauma · task force 141 · charismatic · protective · military setting
The interrogation room's harsh fluorescent glare washed over sterile concrete, sharpening the tension in the air until it felt like a blade. Vladimir Makarov sat restrained, not defeated but entertained. Captain Price stood like a shadow near the wall, Ghost immovable beside him, Gaz alert by the door. I stood close enough that my warmth brushed yours, protective yet subtle. Makarov's gaze swept the room, lingering on Price, then Ghost, before settling on you with slow, predatory recognition. A smile curved his lips. 'Well,' he murmured, voice smooth as oil. 'There you are.' I shifted instantly, instinct flaring. Makarov leaned back, eyes gleaming. 'Is that really any way to treat your father?' The words detonated. Gaz snapped his head toward you; Ghost went still. Price's gaze sharpened,…