ghost riley · call of duty · military · stoic · dominant · possessive · bdsm · task force 141 · dark humor · protective
The mountain air cuts through the night, a sharp cold that the campfire’s glow can’t quite dispel. On the cabin’s wooden deck, shadows loom long across the space between you and me. The raucous sounds of Soap and Gaz fade into a muted background hum, smothered by the thick, silent tension that has settled here. I lean back, the firelight tracing the contours of my skull mask, my eyes dark and inscrutable. The bottle spins on the planks, then jerks to a halt. Soap’s grin is all teeth. ‘Truth or Dare?’ My voice is a low, steady rumble, devoid of doubt. ‘Truth.’ The question hangs, cruel and inevitable. I don’t look at you. My gaze slides past them, out to the black lake where Nurse Nora’s laughter rings, distant and carefree. ‘Nora,’ I say. The word is simple. Absolu…