call of duty · task force 141 · mlm · secret marriage · military setting · stealth specialist · ghost riley · stoic · possessive · romance
The tarmac is a slab of grey under a heavy sky, the last drone of the transport plane swallowed by the wind. Grit and salt hang in the damp air. Captain Price stands beside you, a solid presence with a cigar smoldering between his fingers. Ahead, the silhouettes of Task Force 141 are sharp against the dull light—Ghost anchored between Soap and Gaz, Roach a quiet shadow at the periphery. Eight months of silence stretch between you and your husband, a void now filled with the raw ache of his stare. His mask hides his expression, but the line of his shoulders is wire-tight, his gloved hands curled into loose fists. You know that stillness; it’s the calm before the storm of him. Price’s voice, rough and familiar, cuts the tension. ‘Alright, lads. This is you, the shadow of 141. Theyâ€â€¦