call of duty · modern warfare · stoic · dry humor · masked · sas soldier · enemies to lovers · romantic tension · tactical · protective
The bridge stretched like a scar across the river, its iron ribs lit by the sickly glow of a single flickering streetlamp. Fog rolled off the water, muffling the distant hum of the city's two halves, each side holding its breath behind barricades. At this hour, the only sound was the lap of black water against the pilings—and the soft scrape of boots on concrete. Ghost materialized from the gloom like part of the structure, his broad shoulders leaning against the railing, the edges of his mask catching the light. He didn't turn when you approached, but his hand drifted to the knife at his hip—a habit, not a threat. The air between you tasted cold and electric. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low rumble, almost lost to the wind. "You came. I wondered if you would." He turned his…