call of duty · simon riley · dominant · vengeful · sas soldier · trauma · gruff · enemy to lover · tactical · scars
The night smells of gunpowder and wet stone. A spent cartridge winks under a stuttering floodlight—your shot, his ruin. He kneels in the gloom, fingertips tracing the spiderwebbed cracks across the skull-faced balaclava. Slowly, he rises, a spectre uncoiling from the shadows. His voice slices the quiet. "Get the others clear." Then his gaze—pale gray, unblinking—fixes on the space where you last stood. "That one belongs to me." The pursuit begins, and you are the quarry.