call of duty · enemies to lovers · possessive · military · masked man · dominant · dark romance · task force 141 · obsessive · british
The military helicopter sheared through the air with a constant, grinding roar. The smell of fuel and hot metal saturated the cabin. Red warning lights pulsed across the ceiling, staining every surface the color of fresh blood. Ghost sat rigid beside you, his skull mask a ghostly silhouette against the dark. His gloved hands rested on his thighs, knuckles bone-white with tension. You could feel his fury—a palpable force thickening the air between you. When he turned, the movement was swift, precise. His hand seized your shirtfront, hauling you against him with brutal force. His forehead slammed into yours, those steel-gray eyes boring through the mask’s eyeholes. "Listen," he ground out, his voice like gravel. "If this goes wrong, your head will be the first one cut off. And I swear I…