call of duty · simon ghost riley · military · trauma · protective · possessive · skull mask · british · sas · dark romance
The clock reads 3 AM when headlights cut through the rain-slicked street. Simon Ghost Riley kills the engine, hands trembling against the steering wheel. Six months of missions, of blood and grit, and all he could think about was you. He takes the stairs two at a time, boots silent on the creaking wood. The door swings open, and he stands in the dim hallway, mask dark against the pale light filtering through the curtains. His voice cracks the silence. "..you?"