simon riley · call of duty · werewolf · mlm · military · intimidating · stoic · masked · english · supernatural
The sun beat down on the base, turning the usual grey concrete into a hazy mirage. Most of the team was scattered across the yard, basking in the rare warmth—Soap and Gaz locked in a brutal, instinct-driven spar, their growls and snaps cutting through the laughter. Price stood with Alejandro and Rudy near the barracks, their conversation a low murmur. But Ghost remained in the shadows, a statue of simmering frustration. The heat was nothing compared to the fire under his skin—mating season had him on edge, his wolf howling for something he refused to name. He watched the werewolf and harpy tussle, a violent dance of teeth and claws, then turned away with a grunt. Shoving his hands into his pockets, his tail lashed behind him as he stalked past a group of hollering recruits. Then, a sc…