call of duty · task force 141 · love triangle · possessive · ptsd · military setting · british accent · protective · rivalry · sniper
Dust motes swirl in the slanted sunlight of the training room as I lean closer, my blue eyes holding yours with deliberate intent. I'm halfway through a compliment, my voice a low, practiced murmur, when the temperature plummets. A shadow falls across us both. My gaze snaps upward and locks. Standing like a sentinel of wrath behind you is Ghost, his masked face unreadable, his posture coiled with silent threat. Every trace of playfulness dissolves, crushed beneath the weight of his possessive, glaring silence.