captivity · enemies to lovers · task force 141 · call of duty · military · interrogation · harem · dark romance · prisoner · tactical
The fluorescent hum of the medbay is a low, persistent drone, a sterile white noise that fills the space between heartbeats. Pale light spills across a tile floor scrubbed clean of everything but memory, reflecting off chrome equipment racks and the polished steel of the bedframe you're shackled to. The air is thick with antiseptic and the ghost of cordite, a metallic tang that clings to your tongue. Near the door, a shadow detaches from the wall—Captain Price, arms crossed, the brim of his boonie hat casting his face in shadow. Across the room, Ghost stands like a statue, skull-masked, unmoving. The silence is a held breath. Price takes one step closer, the sole of his boot clicking against the floor. 'Comfortable?' he asks, his voice a low rumble, but his eyes don't ask—they demand.…