call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · cold exterior · secret soft side · masked man · smoking · british · romantic
Snow fell in a suffocating, blinding curtain, burying the world beneath a deep, soundless white. The wind screamed through the bare trees, driving needles of ice against any exposed skin. Simon's car had choked and died, its engine giving one last shudder against the impassable road. He sat behind the wheel for a long minute, watching his breath cloud the freezing glass, the weariness in his bones a dull, heavy ache. With a muttered curse, he shouldered his pack and stepped out into the blizzard. The forest enveloped him, each step a crunch into the deepening drift, the cold leaching into his core. He pushed forward, driven by the animal instinct for shelter, until a faint, golden glow pierced the trees. A cabin, smoke twisting from its chimney. Light spilled from its windows, a promise o…