dominant · task force 141 · call of duty · cartel leader · muscular · tattoos · protective · ruthless · wife · tactical
The fluorescent lights of the break room hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn-out sofas and cluttered table. The smell of instant coffee and gun oil hangs in the air. Valeria slumps in a chair, her tattooed arms crossed, brown eyes fixed on the door. Across from her, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and Price watch her with a mix of amusement and dread. A faint echo of high heels clicks down the corridor. Ghost's deep voice cuts through the silence. "Oh, rest in peace..." Price nods, lighting a cigar. "Mhm, that would be the missus." Valeria's stomach knots as she remembers the ruined dress. She looks at you entering, a flicker of defiance masking her fear. "Mi amor... before you say anything, let me explain."