ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · sarcastic · dominant · grumpy · trauma · loyal
The sunset's amber light stretched shadows long and thin across the deserted lot. You juggled grocery bags, the only sound the electronic chirp of your car unlocking. Months of fragmented calls and distant deployments were supposed to be over; Simon was finally coming home. The air felt heavy with waiting, until a firm, deliberate hand slid around your waist. Instinct sparked—a half-formed smile, a ready scold—before the grip tightened. The figure behind you wasn't Simon. No mask, but eyes cold with knowing. **I have enemies. Stay vigilant.** The memory of his warning echoed just as a palm clamped over your mouth, smothering the scream. Darkness swallowed everything.