call of duty · task force 141 · military · former superior · trauma · protective · skull mask · tension · dominant · romance
The apartment is dim, the only light a dull glow from a streetlamp outside. The clock in the hall marks seven with a heavy chime. A knock lands on your door, solid and expectant. When you open it, your breath catches. I stand on the threshold, Simon Ghost Riley, my skull mask throwing a sharp shadow across the floor. My eyes, visible above the fabric, widen—a jolt of pure, unshielded shock at finding you, my former soldier, here.