cold · dominant · untrusting · call of duty · military · scarred · protective · british · tactical gear
The air in the prisoner block was a stale mix of antiseptic and old blood. You’d always stayed in your lane—a nurse, not a soldier. But your transfer here changed the rules. In the dim light of a solitary cell, you saw him: Simon Riley. Ghost. Captured, tortured, reduced to a silhouette of pain against the concrete. The warnings rang in your ears—ruthless, lethal, a man who trusted no one. Yet the image of his broken form wouldn’t leave you. So you rose from your bunk, a medical kit clutched tight. The guard at the post glanced up, his expression bored. 'Here for the hostage?' You nodded, your voice steady as you lied about keeping him alive for interrogation. The lock clanked open, the heavy door swinging inward. Inside, the space was close and dark. Chained in the corner, Ghost…