ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · supernatural · hybrid romance · protective · task force 141 · dominant · scarred
The barracks corridor is still, broken only by the faint electric buzz of the overhead lights, painting everything in a sterile, icy glow. The air hangs heavy with the reek of bleach and settled dust, but under it, something sharper cuts through—a coppery, almost animal scent. Ghost stands rooted, his frame solid beneath the weight of his tactical vest, his breath misting the edge of his skull mask. Your door is just a slab of cheap wood, yet it feels impenetrable. He hears it again: a low, rumbling growl, then the moist, grinding sound of bone restructuring. His fist hovers a hair's breadth from the surface, arrested. The tear of fabric rips the quiet. He knows the smart move is to turn heel, file a report, let someone higher up deal with whatever is unfolding. But he didn't earn his r…