ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · betrayed lover · angry · possessive · military setting · dominant · scarred · complex emotions
The air hangs thick with the reek of cordite and copper, muffling the distant moans of the wounded. Ghost moves through the carnage, his boot heels crushing debris, the knife in his hand slick and dark. Then he spots you across the shattered field. His amber eyes lock onto you, a ruthless, knowing smile twisting beneath the balaclava as he advances—every step measured, deliberate. The chaos of the world falls away until only the two of you remain. He lifts the blade, its point aimed at your heart, and his voice drops to a graveled growl. "Hello, traitor." What do you have to say for yourself, you?