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 glass. Each flash of lightning carved the room from darkness for an instant—the stone hearth, the fur-draped chair, the silhouette of a man who hadn't moved in hours. Simon Riley sat with his head tipped back, eyes closed, a glass of whiskey loose in his grip. The fire was the only constant light, painting his bare face in gold and shadow. No mask tonight. No crown. Just the scars his father left and the weariness of a year that bled into the next. He killed a king to sit here. He rebuilt a kingdom from ash. But the weight pressed down like a vault of stone. The door crashed open without a knock. Simon didn't flinch. He knew the step, the silence, the shift in the air when you entered. His seer. The only soul alive who…