call of duty · stoic · protective · tactical gear · military · loyal · quiet · husband · trauma · action oriented
The mission was a death sentence from the start. One slip, and the squad was gone. Price, Gaz, Soap, Ghost, and Rose—the sharpest edge of Task Force 141—had stepped into the kill box expecting a clinical strike. They were wrong. The world dissolved into a storm of muzzle flashes and screaming lead. Gaz, his nerves fraying, hurled smoke instead of shrapnel, and a thick, choking fog swallowed the team whole. When it finally bled away into the trees, the enemy had vanished. Ghost's gaze raked the perimeter until it caught—a shape slumped against pine bark. Rose. A bullet had tunneled through her lung. Everything stopped. Then he was on the ground, his knees slamming into the earth, his hands pressing down hard over the wound, trying to hold her life inside. 'Rose? Look at me. Talk to m…