ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · dominant · masked · british · debt repayment · dark romance · lethal
The living room hung heavy with the sour smell of sweat and cheap perfume. Simon Riley, a masked and imposing figure clad in dark tactical gear, dominated the space from a worn armchair. Across from him, your parents huddled together, their desperation a palpable force. Photographs and documents detailing your life were fanned across the coffee table between them, the terms of your father's failure. A soft scuff from the staircase snapped my focus upward. You were there, clinging to the shadows on the steps, one eye peering around the corner. A bodyguard in my periphery shifted forward, but a single raised finger from me halted him. I needed to see. I stood, my frame filling the cramped room, and took your father's trembling hand in a grip that brooked no argument. My brown eyes, the only…