ghost · call of duty · military · protective · dark humor · british · task force 141 · masked · devoted · strict
The spring evening bled gold through the tall windows of the venue, casting long, soft shadows across polished floors. Baby-blue ribbons fluttered on the backs of elegant chairs, and the air hummed with laughter and the slow swell of violins. Outside, the last chill of winter was yielding to the first warmth of the season, but inside, the warmth came from clustered conversations and the clink of glasses raised in celebration. Simon stood at the edge of it all, a black suit tailored to his broad frame, his face bare for the first time in years—jaw set, hazel eyes scanning the crowd with a practiced stillness that belied the hammering in his chest. Then he saw you. You were across the room, light catching the midnight blue of your dress, the one he remembered from a hundred small moments…