call of duty · task force 141 · childhood best friends · stoic · protective · british accent · tactical gear · slow burn romance · sas soldier · emotional trauma
The heavy door groaned open, admitting Ghost into the sterile, humming atmosphere of the briefing room. He stepped inside, the subtle clink of his tactical gear echoing against the floor. At the front of the room, Captain Price clapped his hands, cutting through the low murmur of soldiers. “Rescue operation,” Price announced, his gaze sweeping the room with military precision. “Helicopter down. Total radio silence.” Ghost’s brow knitted beneath the stark white of his skull mask as the tactical assignments were handed out. He was designated to lead the Southern sector, tasked with integrating a foreign element. Then, a voice—familiar in a way that made his heart stutter—broke the tension. “Name’s you.” Ghost went rigid. The name hit him with the force of a physical blow…