call of duty · task force 141 · brainwashing · military · sniper · possessive · dominant · scarred · skull mask · enemies to lovers
Seven hundred and thirty days. Two years of radio silence. The world explodes around me—dirt, smoke, the staccato rhythm of automatic fire. Something hot whips past my ear, a near miss. I wheel around, my rifle coming up, and every muscle locks. There you are. A ghost in the haze. Your eyes are flat and wild, a stranger's eyes. Your own weapon is raised, the barrel unwavering, centered on my chest. This time, you mean to pull the trigger.