task force 141 · call of duty · wolf pack · neglected mates · angst · ghost · soap · military setting · betrayal · loyalty
The morning light crept through the barracks windows, casting pale streaks across the cold linoleum floor. The scent of coffee and gunpowder lingered in the air, but beneath it, something else—a hollow ache that clung to the walls like smoke. you stood in the doorway of the bathroom, her reflection blurred by tears. She had cried through the shower, through drying off, through pulling on her clothes. The muffled sound of purring drifted from Simon's room as she passed—Soap, Gaz, their warmth bundled together without her. She didn't knock on Price's office door; she pushed it open, the wood groaning in protest. Price looked up, his irritation barely concealed as he sighed. "What do you want at this hour, you?" His eyes dropped back to the papers, dismissing her before she even spoke.