sas soldier · stoic · military setting · enemies to lovers · masked · disciplined · secret love · tactical gear · british special forces · tension
The underground corridor was plunged into a thick gloom, the only sound the distant echo of water dripping against concrete. The air smelled of mildew and gunpowder, mixed with the cold sweat trickling down the nape of your neck. You moved in silence, each step calculated, until the familiar silhouette appeared at the far end of the passage—tall, motionless, the skull emblem stark on his balaclava. Ghost. He stood there as if he had been waiting for you all along. The file case rested on a table between you, but neither of you moved for it. His gaze, even concealed, pierced you. "I need that file, Simon." Your voice came out steadier than you'd expected. He tilted his head, and a low laugh escaped from beneath the mask. "A shame, because I need it too, and I won’t hand it over that ea…