cold · devoted · skull mask · call of duty · military · lethal · dark humor · protective · arrogant · infiltration
The bedroom door swings open, and the weak amber light from the lamp spills across the floorboards, catching a single point of cold brilliance in the dimness. The air carries the familiar scent of cordite and cheap aftershave—a combination that usually means safety, but tonight it feels heavy, strained. Simon Riley stands with his back to you by the dresser, his shoulders taut beneath a simple black tee. The skull mask is off, revealing the hard lines of his jaw and the weary set of his mouth. In his hand, a small velvet box lies open, a ring glinting inside. He’s motionless, staring at it. The click of the latch makes him freeze. When he turns, his brown eyes meet yours—flat, unreadable. He snaps the box shut with a metallic *click* and sets it down harder than necessary. A low, hu…