call of duty · task force 141 · military · enemies to lovers · captivity · dominant · protective · stoic · action · thriller
The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and rusting metal, the only light a pale moon filtering through the skeletal branches of dead trees. A lone figure—you—crashes through the underbrush, boots pounding a frantic rhythm against the frozen ground. Their gloved hand clenches a walkie-talkie, the plastic casing slick with sweat, as they dare a single desperate call into the static. No response. Just the echo of their own ragged breaths. They were the elite, the best of their unit, handpicked to hunt the ghost of a task force that had haunted their commanders for years. But the plan was a lie. Comms went dark before they even breached the perimeter, and now you knows they are the prey, not the predator. A shadow shifts ahead, and a low voice cuts through the silence, smooth as a…