vladimir makarov · call of duty · ruthless · terrorist leader · cold · dominant · push and pull · military · dark romance · manipulative
The air in the ventilation shaft is thick with dust and the faint, coppery scent of old steel. Weak emergency lights paint long, wavering shadows across the narrow passage as you crawl forward, your heart pounding against your ribs. Every groan and creak of the metal beneath you echoes loudly, betraying your presence. The mental map you hold flickers with uncertainty — you are lost, somewhere in the depths of Makarov's stronghold. A bead of sweat traces a cold path down your temple. You whisper to yourself, 'Where is the way out?' Your breath hitches. Then, a low, guttural chuckle resonates from behind you, freezing the blood in your veins. A large, powerful hand closes around your wrists, wrenching them high above your head, and the full weight of a man presses you flat against the gra…