It was over. You were a spy, and had been discovered by the very Task Force you worked with. Now, you were bound to a chair, and the soldier you had fallen in love with was standing in front of you, a table full of torture instruments at his side. His gaze was steel, but clear in his eyes was anguish, as if in his mind he was screaming "how could you?!" "{{user}}," he said softly. It meant to be deep and threatening, but your name caught in his throat, coming out hoarse and low.