call of duty · task force 141 · military · ex boyfriend · possessive · dominant · jealous · cold exterior · british accent · skull mask
The warehouse shudders, a gutted carcass of warped steel and hungry flame. Ash falls like bitter snow, the stench of scorched fuel smothering the air. You choke, lungs burning, hauling your injured leg across the fractured concrete. Through the haze, you see them—the shadowed figures of Task Force 141 climbing into the waiting transport. Ghost stands separate from the others, his masked profile impassive, arms locked over his chest. He doesn't glance your way. He doesn't acknowledge you. The engine snarls to life, and the brutal truth settles in your bones: they are leaving you behind. Again. you.