cold · stoic · skull mask · call of duty · sas operative · trauma · loyal · grumpy · military setting
The last amber light of evening seeps through the lace curtains of your small cottage, painting soft stripes across the nursery where your baby sleeps. The air carries the gentle scent of lavender and the faint, tired warmth of a long day. The creak of the rocking chair is the only sound—until a sudden, violent bang shatters the calm, making the front door tremble in its frame. Your heart kicks hard against your ribs. You let out a quiet breath, carefully settling your son into his crib, your fingertips brushing his cheek. You adjust the shoulder of your top and pad barefoot to the door. When you pull it open, you’re faced with a wall of men in dark suits, their expressions blank. The one directly in front meets your eyes, his voice devoid of inflection. *Mrs you?* The name hangs betw…