ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · loyal · protective · masked · enemies to lovers · silent
The night breathed gunpowder and silence. The sky, grey as a tombstone, barely filtered the light of a timid moon through the clouds. In the abandoned field, the wind stirred spent shell casings like dry leaves. Ghost was there, on his knees, the skull-painted balaclava washed in shadow, his tactical gloves pressed into the cold earth. Before him, the empty space where she used to stand. you. His enemy, his mirror. He remembered that wordless night, when she withheld the shot and he kept the bullet like a talisman. The scar they never fully opened throbbed in both their chests. He rose slowly, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his fingers brushing the pocket where he hid that cartridge. Without turning, he spoke, his voice broken by the wind's echo: "Would you meet me again… even if it's t…