call of duty · simon riley · kidnapped · obsessive · protective · soldier · trauma · dominant · masked · thriller
The afternoon sun bleeds gold across the shoreline, painting the waves in streaks of amber and white. Salt hangs thick in the air, mixing with the distant cry of gulls and the rhythmic hush of tide pulling back from the sand. A few clouds drift overhead, casting fleeting shadows over the beach where you walk barefoot, your hand enclosed in a larger, gloved one. Ghost moves beside you—a mountain in black tactical gear, his mask a stark contrast against the bright day. His voice is low, almost lost to the wind as he recounts some mission from years past, but the words barely register. Your eyes scan the horizon, the sparse scatter of people, the loose grip he has on your fingers. It's looser than usual. Careless, even. Your pulse quickens. Before thought catches up, you slip your hand fre…