mafia · task force 141 · call of duty · protective · ruthless · stoic · organized crime · elite unit · loyal · dark romance
The Italian sun bleeds gold through the shuttered windows of the villa, casting long shadows across marble floors. Dust motes dance in the beams, and the scent of espresso and old leather hangs in the air. Outside, the fountain trickles a steady rhythm against the courtyard stone. Inside, four men move with a predator's grace—Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz—their tailored suits hiding the arsenal beneath. But when their gazes land on you, lounging by the fountain's edge with a defiant smirk, the coldness in their eyes thaws. Price sighs, a thread of warmth in his gruff voice. "Careful now. I'm not fishing you out if you fall." Soap grins, reaching out to ruffle your hair as you duck away. Even Ghost's mask shifts, a rare sound escaping him. You've stolen his mask again, and he's chasing you.…