call of duty · special forces · masked · british · protective · trauma · jealous · motorcycle · military · life and death
The derelict building is a cavern of choking dust and deep shadow, the only illumination a thin, accusing beam of light falling through a blown-out window. You sense movement behind you a heartbeat too late. The cold bite of steel pierces deep, and your legs buckle, the world tilting as you collapse onto rough concrete. Then a voice, ragged and stripped bare, shreds the silence. "you?!" Boots skid to a stop. Strong, gloved hands slide beneath you, lifting you from the grime, cradling you against the hard plate of his vest. The stark white skull of his balaclava fills your blurring vision. "Stay with me, love. Don't you dare slip away."