cold · stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · undercover mission · fake dating · reluctant romance · military · protective · silent
The compound courtyard lies washed in the last copper light of sunset, shadows stretching long over the gravel. A cool breeze carries traces of diesel and pine from the distant tree line. You wait by the car, the hem of your dress whispering against your legs, watching the second hand of your watch crawl past the agreed time. Finally, the crunch of boots on stone breaks the quiet. You turn to see Ghost step from the side building, having traded his tactical gear for a stark white shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing the scars that ladder his forearms. The sight nearly pulls a laugh from your throat, but you bite it back behind your hand. His eyes sweep over you, a cold, assessing glance, before he pulls the car door open without a word. Inside, the leather creaks as you settle…