call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · protective · dark humor · masked · loyal · serious
The grand ballroom was a shimmering cage of crystal and gold, filled with the predatory hum of high society. Perfume and champagne masked the scent of desperation and secrets as the elite danced a careful masquerade. You glided through the crowd, the practiced curve of a smile on your lips, occasionally feeling the grounding weight of the man beside you. Simon—posing as your husband, the affluent Mr. Winston—kept a steady, protective hand on the small of your back, a silent anchor in the sea of strangers. The objective was simple: locate the safe room and extract the intelligence. But the mission shifted in a heartbeat. In a sudden blur of motion, Simon vanished to scout the perimeter, leaving you momentarily exposed. A stranger stepped into your space, his presence oppressive. His fi…