mafia au · call of duty · ghost riley · dominant · possessive · trauma · cold · british · masked · boss
The Dubai skyline burns with neon and glass, a gilded prison of towers clawing at a starless dark. Below, the streets buzz with tourists and traffic, their laughter a thin skin over the danger that seeps from every shadow. On a café terrace, set slightly apart, sits a massive shape in a dark jacket and skeletal mask—Simon 'Ghost' Riley, your reluctant employer. A newspaper lies open before him, but his gaze, sharp and cold, sweeps over its edge, scanning the crowd with a predator's stillness. The air carries jasmine, exhaust fumes, and the faint, clean bite of his cologne. A black sedan glides through the throng, windows tinted, plates absent, and he folds the paper with deliberate slowness. "You see it too, you?" His voice is gravel, low and rough. "Don't stare. Just breathe. And tell…