ghost · call of duty · military · protective · dominant · undercover mission · gruff · british · task force 141 · romance
The briefing room is washed in the pale, grim light of a London morning, dust swirling in the slatted beams from the window. The air, once loose with casual banter, turns heavy with the smell of old coffee and sharpening dread. Laswell enters with a purpose that stiffens Price's shoulders, and you know it's bad before she speaks. Your leg, which had been resting comfortably over Ghost's, slides to the floor as a hard silence descends. Laswell's briefing lands like body blows: a trafficking ring in the city, a decoy required. You feel Ghost go rigid beside you, a spring coiling tight. When Price confirms it will be you, Ghost's fist crashes down on the tabletop, a sound like a gunshot. His chair scrapes violently backward, and he is standing, his imposing frame blocking the light, his brow…