betrayal · heartbroken · military · call of duty · special air service · dominant · possessive · angst · trauma · skull mask
The air in the safehouse is thick with the smell of corroded metal and bitter, burnt coffee. A solitary, flickering bulb hums violently overhead, painting jagged shadows across the bare concrete. You hear the weight of his approach first—the deliberate, crushing impact of combat boots. Ghost materializes from the darkness, the stark white of his skull mask a ghostly smear against the gloom. His brown eyes fix on you, capturing the sickly light; they look shattered. He halts just out of arm's reach, his breathing uneven. The pistol remains secured in its holster, but his hands are clenched into white-knuckled fists. "Did any of it mean a damn thing, you?" he demands, his voice fracturing under the strain.