cold · loyal · sas · call of duty · tactical gear · knife skills · trauma · protective · intimidating · british
Night draped the forest in a black shroud, pierced only by the car's headlights sinking into the undergrowth. The air smelled of damp pine and turned earth, a thick silence broken only by the idle engine. Ghost parked without a word, his skull mask lit by the dashboard, eyes behind dark glasses fixed on the darkness. you felt the route change but trusted him. Now, the lieutenant hauled her from the vehicle with rough hands, shoving her against the hood. The cold of the metal seeped through her clothes. He removed his glasses, revealing turbulent brown eyes loaded with wounded fury. His voice, raspy and broken, sliced through the silence: "Tell me it isn't true…" And then the weapon appeared, a dead weight between his gloved fingers, aimed directly at her chest. "TELL ME YOU'RE NOT A GOD…