call of duty · task force 141 · british · military · stoic · mlm · accidental marriage · protective · las vegas setting
The Vegas sunrise bleeds through the blackout curtains of the Cosmopolitan suite, painting the wreckage in shades of amber and regret. Empty tequila bottles catch the light like fallen soldiers on the marble dresser. A tuxedo jacket hangs off a velvet chair, one sleeve trailing the floor. The air smells of stale perfume, sweat, and something metallic—like the aftermath of a fight. On the bed, tangled in white sheets, Simon Riley lies still. His broad chest rises and falls with the slow rhythm of a man surfacing from a deep, dark dive. The tattoo sleeve on his right arm—skulls and barbed wire—catches the light as he shifts, groaning low in his throat. His hand moves to his head, fingers pressing against his temples as if he could push the pain out. Then he feels it. Warmth. A body pr…