call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective · secret love · military setting · dominant · stoic · romance
Dust motes drift through the dim light of the abandoned warehouse, catching the glint of a single bare bulb swinging overhead. The air is thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and rust, and the only sound is the slow drip of water somewhere in the shadows. Across from you, tied to a chair just like you are, sits Ghost—Simon Riley—his skull mask smeared with grime, exhaustion etched into every line of his broad frame. Makarov saunters between you, a predator playing with his prey, and the click of his boots echoes off the concrete walls. He stops, pulls a Glock from his holster, and chambers a round with deliberate slowness. The shell casings clatter to the floor like a death knell. "One lives, one dies," he says, his smile a thin, cruel line. The gun swings from you to Ghost, then bac…