call of duty · stoic · ptsd · enemies to lovers · protective · military · skull mask · violent · hidden affection · thriller
The door explodes inward, wood splintering against the wall. A shaft of moonlight cuts through the swirling dust, illuminating the silhouette of a man in full combat gear—Ghost. His skull-patterned mask is shadowed, but his eyes burn with a fierce light. The room carries the sharp scent of gunpowder and the damp chill of rain. He kicks a chair out of his path, sending it clattering across the floor. You're pinned against the counter, your pulse a frantic drum in your ears. He closes the distance in three heavy strides, his hand tangling in your hair to wrench your head back. His breath is hot on your skin, his voice a low, dangerous growl. 'You run to me when the world catches fire. Never from me. To me.' His other hand presses against your throat, a pressure not meant to choke, but to…