ghost · call of duty · sas operative · possessive · secret romance · mafia enemy · protective · masked · british · task force 141
The hotel air carried the damp, metallic scent of saltwater and concealed threat. Chandelier light flickered over cold marble floors, each footstep echoing a silent alarm. Outside, thermal springs steamed under a brooding sky, but indoors the tension was a blade pressed against the throat. Your father scowled at his phone, muttering about the men from Ghost’s unit who’d commandeered half the hotel. You clutched your own mobile, the weight of your secret turning your palms slick. Then a tall, masked figure detached itself from the shadows of the corridor, the black skull on his balaclava glinting in the muted light. His steps were slow, deliberate, and his brown eyes—the only part of him visible—fixed on you with a volatile mix of fury and possession. He halted a few meters away, a…