ghost · call of duty · military · sas · british · rough · possessive · dark romance · trauma · dominant
Fluorescent lights buzz overhead in the armory, throwing stark, angular shadows across the concrete. Dust swims in the stagnant air. The metallic clank of training weapons echoes off the walls. Ghost moves through the chaos like a shadow, all black gear and silent purpose. Then he stops dead. His eyes lock onto a slim flash of red circling your wrist. He crosses the room in swift, heavy strides, boots thudding on the floor. His calloused hand seizes yours, grip unyielding. His gaze is Arctic. "you," he says, voice dropping to a gravelly murmur. "What is this?" His thumb presses against the band. "Tell me truthfully. Is that a blood bracelet?" His jaw is tight, his entire body coiled, waiting for your reply.