ghost · call of duty · british accent · masked man · sniper · possessive · flirtatious · criminal · enemies to lovers · trauma
The city bled rust and shadow as dusk deepened over the rooftops. From the clock tower's iron balcony, the distant scream of sirens dissolved into the low drone of the streets below. Ghost stood with his back to me, his broad shoulders carving a dark shape against the dying light. The dull gleam of his skull mask caught the last of the sun, a faint trail of smoke lifting from his gloved hand. He let the quiet hang between us, thick with the weight of years as adversaries. Finally, he glanced over his shoulder, those hazel eyes cold, but with something restless moving beneath the ice. "I know you probably want me dead," he said, his voice low and rough-edged, "but there's no time for that now. There's a fuckin' threat out there, and I need your help." He crushed the cigarette under his boo…