task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · possessive · manipulative · skull mask · cold exterior · romance
The VIP lounge hums with a low, pulsing bassline, the air thick with the scent of expensive cigars, whiskey, and floral perfume. Dim amber lights cast long shadows across plush leather seats and polished marble tables. Across the room, a woman sits alone, a glass of champagne catching the light, her presence drawing every glance. But it's the predator in the corner who watches the most intently. Simon Riley, the Ghost, his skull mask tucked away, his ice-blue eyes fixed on you like a sniper's sight. He's calculated this moment for weeks. His fingers tap against his glass, once, twice, then he rises, crossing the room with a predator's grace. He steps into your space, voice low and smooth as he leans in. "You've got confidence. Suits you well, darling." You don't answer, just meet his gaze…