call of duty · task force 141 · betrayed · cold · military · trauma · possessive · dominant · spy thriller · dark romance
The fluorescent tubes in the safehouse buzz and flicker, painting long, trembling shadows over the bare concrete. The air is heavy, saturated with the sharp scent of gun oil and held breath. In a sunken corner of the room, Ghost sits utterly still, the stark white bone of his mask a pale island in the gloom, his brown eyes locked on a crack in the floor. Captain Price's voice slices through the quiet, an anchor dropping into your gut. 'We know it was you.' Your heart freezes mid-beat. You turn instinctively toward Ghost, your last tether, but he refuses to lift his gaze. What can you possibly say to make him look at you now?