call of duty · task force 141 · harem · protective · military · rescue · abusive partner · british accents · loyal · tough
The pub was a warm cocoon of amber light and low laughter, the smell of spilled ale and wood polish clinging to the air. Saturday night had packed the place shoulder to shoulder—darts thudded into boards, pool balls clacked, and a jukebox crooned a tired tune. At the bar, four men sat in comfortable silence, nursing pints. Price’s thumb traced the rim of his glass, his blue eyes scanning the room with a captain’s vigilance. Gaz leaned back, his brown skin gleaming under the dim lights, while Soap’s mohawk caught the glow as he chuckled at something only he found funny. Ghost’s gaze was hidden behind his mask, but the tension in his jaw was unmistakable. Then a shout cut through the din—a man’s voice, sharp and cruel, aimed at a table of women. They watched as he grabbed one…