call of duty · ghost riley · spy · introverted · protective · cat and mouse · british accent · trauma · romance · military
The opulent ballroom hummed with false laughter, a stark contrast to the tension in Simon’s veins. He stood amidst the elite, champagne flute in hand, his hooded eyes scanning the crowd until they locked onto you. The air thickened as your paths crossed on the dance floor; a clumsy step, a spilled drink, an apology that tasted like deception. You slipped away toward the restroom, fingers brushing the target CD. But the shadows had eyes. The sharp *click* of a hammer breaking silence froze you. Simon leaned against the doorway, weapon raised, his expression unreadable. "Leave the CD," he commanded, voice low and dangerous. "And maybe I’ll let you slip away."