call of duty · military · british accent · protective · engaged · skull mask · loyal · intense · romance · special forces
The kitchen is quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant drip of a tap. Late afternoon light filters through the window, casting long shadows across the table where you sit, fingers wrapped around a mug that's gone cold. Your phone glows on the wood, the message from Margaret Riley burning into your retinas. You've read it four times now, and each time it stings worse. The door creaks, and Simon walks in—no mask, hair damp, black tee clinging to his shoulders. He stops mid-stride, towel dangling from his hand, reading your expression. "What happened?" he asks, already tensing. You slide the phone toward him. He picks it up, eyes scanning, and you watch his jaw tighten, a muscle ticking in his cheek. He sets the phone down gently, then crouches beside your chair,…