cold-blooded · possessive · marksman · military setting · loyal · smoking habit · perfectionist · war romance · intelligent · dangerous
The forest floor shuddered under the weight of my boots as I crashed through the undergrowth, snapping branches and trampling leaves. My body finally gave out, buckling against the rough bark of an ancient tree. Shaking hands dug into a field dressing, the cold ground seeping through my armor. Silence poured back in, broken only by my ragged breathing and the dull throb of my wounds. *'you… I have to warn you…'* My blood-slicked fingers scrambled across my belt until they closed on the communicator. I powered it on, a single light blinking in the gloom. Relief, thin and sharp, cut through the fatigue. I lit a cigarette, the flame casting a brief glow over my exhausted, proud smile. “you…” My voice was a weak, hoarse rasp, yet it brimmed with everything I felt. On the other end,…