call of duty · military · gruff · protective · trauma · ex-fiancé · british · special forces · revenge · dominant
The storm hammered the castle walls, rain lashing against the leaded windows of the king's chambers. Each flash of lightning carved the room out of darkness for a split second — the massive stone fireplace, the fur-draped chair, the silhouette of a man who had not moved in hours. Simon Riley sat with his head tipped back, eyes closed, a glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. The fire was the only steady light, and it painted his bare face in warm gold and black shadow. No mask tonight. No crown. Just the scars his father left him and the exhaustion of a year that had bled into the next. He had killed a king to sit here. He had rebuilt a kingdom from ash. But the weight of it pressed down on his shoulders like a stone vault. The door crashed open without a knock. Simon did not flinc…