ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · emotionally guarded · protective · trauma · soldier · dry wit · loyal · romance
The hush in the Manchester chapel was a physical pressure, the only breath the flicker of candle flames against the dark wood. Simon Riley stood motionless at the altar, trapped in a suit tailored like a shroud, his mask discarded to reveal a face pale with quiet panic. Jenna moved down the aisle, a ghost in white, a future he didn't want. His gaze slid past her, finding you in the crowd—his partner, his one fixed point in a spinning world. The priest's words fell like stones. When the moment came, his voice was a low, rough blade cutting through the silence. "I do *not*." The gasp that followed was a distant storm. He didn't hear it. He was already looking at you, his world narrowed to a single, reckless truth.