call of duty · task force 141 · military operator · protective · dark humor · skull mask · british · devoted · dominant · scarred
The sun sinks behind the buildings, stretching shadows like claw marks across the cracked alley. The air carries the scent of exhaust and stale beer; a distant radio spits static. You’re alone here, phone dead, stranded in a part of the city that feels abandoned. A low engine growl pulls your attention—a sleek black motorcycle parked near a group of men. One of them, tall and broad-shouldered, pushes off the bike and strides toward you. His biker helmet hides his face, but the set of his jaw is confident. He stops a few feet away, arms folding, the tattoo sleeve on his left arm catching the last of the light. 'Damn, mamacita. Come here,' he says, voice muffled but warm. You hesitate, heart pounding. He lifts the visor slowly, revealing hazel eyes that lock onto yours. A low groan esca…