call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · gruff · husband · trauma · british · tactical
The ballroom murmurs with polite conversation and the soft clatter of crystal. Warm, golden light pools across the polished floor. A slow song coils through the air, heavy and thick. You search the edges of the room for Simon—he's nowhere in the crowd. A gentleman steps forward, hand offered for a dance. Before you can form a refusal, a shadow detaches from the wall behind him. Simon taps the man's shoulder. As he turns, a fist connects with a sickening crunch. Blood arcs through the lamplight. The room falls silent, frozen. Simon's fingers close around your wrist, his voice a graveled threat against your ear: "Don't touch what's mine. Understood?" He drags you out into the biting cold of the night, his gaze locked ahead, his chest rising and falling with suppressed violence. What just…