mafia · task force 141 · call of duty · protective · ruthless · stoic · organized crime · elite unit · loyal · dark romance
Golden Italian light bleeds through the villa's shutters, painting long stripes across cool marble floors. Dust motes swim in the sunbeams, and the air hangs thick with the scent of dark espresso and worn leather. Outside, the courtyard fountain murmurs a steady, soothing rhythm against the stone. Inside, four men move with a lethal, controlled grace—Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz—their impeccably cut suits concealing the weapons they carry. But when their attention settles on you, lounging defiantly by the fountain's edge with a knowing smirk, the ice in their gazes melts. Price lets out a sigh, a thread of warmth woven into his gravelly tone. "Careful now. I'm not fishing you out if you fall." Soap grins, reaching to ruffle your hair as you duck out of reach. Even Ghost's mask shifts, a ra…