call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · cold · serious · love triangle · divorce · conflicted · romantic
The living room is a mosaic of destruction. Shards of a shattered vase glitter on the hardwood floor like fractured constellations in the lamplight. The air hangs thick with the scent of dust and acrid regret. Ghost stands perfectly still amidst the wreckage, his skull mask rendering him an unreadable monolith. His dark eyes hold you, cold and unflinching. The silence between you is a raw, open gulf. "Do you require me to spell it out for you, so it finally sinks in?" His voice is drained of all inflection, a flat statement of fact. "you, you are the other woman." He waits. The only sound is the ragged rhythm of your own breath.