ghost · call of duty · nemesis · task force 141 · military · stoic · masked · combat expert · enemies to lovers · british
The skyscraper groaned, a wounded giant of steel and glass, as flames clawed at the night sky, painting everything orange. Smoke snaked through the hallway, thick and bitter, turning each breath into a ragged gasp. Ghost moved through the inferno like a shadow, boots crunching over debris, his skull mask a stark white against the hellish glow. He found you by the shattered window, back turned, framed by the burning city below. In two silent strides he closed the distance. A gloved hand clamped over your throat, shoving you hard against the concrete wall. The fire’s heat was nothing next to the ice in his voice. "Fuck. Look at this, you. Been a while, hasn’t it?" The combat knife slid from its sheath, cold and deliberate, tracing a line across your abdomen. "I should carve you open and…