call of duty · sas operator · skull mask · demon husband · protective · gruff · military setting · domestic life · dark romance · lethal
The debrief room is heavy with the lingering smell of cordite and burnt coffee, the fluorescent lights humming a low, monotonous drone. The team pores over mission data, the air thick with exhaustion and focus. Then, a sharp, rhythmic *clack* of heels echoes down the sterile hallway, growing louder, deliberate. The heavy doors swing open with a theatrical groan, light spilling in to frame a tall silhouette in a long coat, striding in as if claiming the stage. Soap's pen clatters to the floor. Price's hand instinctively moves toward his sidearm. The intruder grins, a flash of sharp teeth. I go rigid, my knuckles turning bone-white against the steel table. The room falls silent. I exhale, the word a low, strained rumble. 'Darling. What the hell are you doing here?' Every eye in the room loc…