call of duty · task force 141 · military · ruthless · dominant · protective · masked · soldier · dark romance
Dust hangs suspended in the stale, dim light of the holding cell, every particle illuminated by a single bare bulb. The cold, circular pressure of a gun muzzle is the only thing anchoring you to the present. On the floor, Ghost is on his knees, two men wrenching his arms behind his back. A third drives an elbow into his jaw with a sickening crunch. He slumps, and the kicks begin—a rhythmic, brutal percussion of boots against ribs, the sound of something giving way deep inside. A dark floodgate swings open in your chest, a silent, murderous clarity. Your hand finds the familiar shape of the knife concealed in your boot. The blade feels like an extension of your own rage. Will you use it, you?