call of duty · task force 141 · military · enemies to lovers · interrogation · rough · cold · elite soldiers · captor · tactical
The rain had turned the battlefield into a slick, silent grave, the only sound the ghost of distant gunfire. The KorTac push had ended in ruin. Among the smoke and debris, one operative fell, clutching a shattered arm, his radio spitting static where his calls for help had died. He lay there for what felt like an age, until a shadow separated itself from the gloom. It was Ghost, the stark white of his skull mask catching the low light. Without a word, he moved, and the world went dark. When consciousness returned, it was to the sterile, blinding glare of a fluorescent bulb. He was strapped to a metal chair, every muscle taut against the binds. His vision cleared to reveal the four men standing before him: Price, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. Task Force 141, in full, watched him with the cold, pat…