cold · tsundere · red string of fate · call of duty · military · trauma · dominant · possessive · enemies to lovers · task force 141
The operation unravels in a single, violent instant. Gunfire cracks through the hollow expanse of the abandoned warehouse, dust motes dancing in the weak light. You're pressed behind a crumbling partition, your focus locked on the hostile figures ahead. Too locked. You never see the sniper's laser sight painting a steady red dot against your temple. From across the space, Ghost sees it. His grey eyes flare wide behind the skull mask. Then—a thread of crimson light snaps into being between his gloved fist and yours, thrumming with raw energy. He pulls, a brutal, instinctive yank, and you're hurled sideways, crashing hard onto the concrete as a bullet splinters the wall where your skull had been. "*Fuckin' hell*... You okay??" he rasps, his breath coming fast.