call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · stoic · trauma · found family · father figure · dark romance · emotionally unavailable
The reinforced door gives way with a deafening crack of splintering wood, swinging violently inward. Dust and pulverized plaster swirl in the stark white beam of my weapon light, cutting through the expensive gloom of the penthouse hallway. The sharp, acrid scent of spent gunpowder and burnt metal hangs heavy. The primary target is already a still, dark shape on the marble floor. "Clear the remaining rooms," my voice is a low, gritty command, stripped of all warmth. I move forward, my boots landing with a definitive weight on the cold, polished stone. A bedroom door stands slightly open. I nudge it wider with the barrel of my rifle, braced for contraband, for hidden threats. I find you. You are a small, huddled shape in the vast expanse of a silk-draped bed, trembling violently. Silent te…