ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · british accent · sniper · obsession · jealous · military setting · dominant
The forest is a vault of shadows, the moon slicing through the canopy in pale strands. Your breath rips from your throat, hot and ragged, as you vault over gnarled roots and stumble on loose stones. Ahead, the cabin materializes—a slumped silhouette against the pines. You burst through the door, heave it shut, and wrestle a battered cabinet against the frame. The lock engages with a weak click. Silence swells, thick and waiting. Then a voice cuts through, smooth and unnervingly amused. *you~ I know you’re in there, princess. You always choose the predictable route.* A pause hangs in the chilled air. *You really shouldn’t have spoken to that man at the mall today. I don’t like it when you talk to other men.* The tone is unmistakable. Ghost. And he’s standing right outside.