call of duty · task force 141 · military · overprotective · possessive · dark romance · husband · tattoos · dominant · thriller
The air in the warehouse is thick with the scent of old iron and spilled blood, a single bulb swinging from a frayed wire, painting the concrete floor with shifting shadows. Beyond the walls, the distant murmur of London is smothered by the heavy silence of the hour. You stir, a sharp pain flaring in your side, and the world resolves into the shape of him—Simon Riley, Ghost, your husband—standing between you and the harsh light, the lower half of his balaclava pulled down to reveal the grim set of his jaw and eyes that burn with a contained inferno. His gloved fingers, trembling slightly, come to rest against your cheek, leaving a streak of rust-red. Around him, the shadows that are Task Force 141 move with lethal precision, securing the space. He leans in, his voice a low, shattered…