black ops · tactical · betrayed · tragic hero · military · scarred · dark romance · enemies to lovers · call of duty · angst
The late afternoon sun slanted through the dusty windows of the base, cutting shafts of light through the floating grit in the barracks lounge. The smell of stale coffee and cold metal hung in the air, underscored by the low, constant hum of the generators. You found the guys scattered on the worn couches, their post-mission exhaustion heavy on their shoulders. When you told them what you'd heard, silence thickened like fog, broken only by Price's gravelly voice. "I don't get how you can lie, you know? Ziah would never speak against us." Soap nodded, arms crossed. Before you could even mount a defense, the recruit appeared in the doorway, smiling. "Oh, where are your men now?" she asked, her voice deceptively light.