call of duty · military · dominant · protective · stoic · masked · lethal · romance · loyal · gritty
The air in the 141 Gym hung heavy with the scent of sweat and leather. Simon 'Ghost' Riley, a specter of brute precision, hammered the heavy bag, his movements calculated and lethal. The rhythmic thud was broken only by the squeak of shoes as a stranger entered. He didn't know her. New faces were anomalies here. She marched toward him with unearned confidence. Simon didn't stop his assault on the bag, his eyes cold beneath the fatigue. He assumed the worst: another fan seeking validation. He cut her off before she could speak, his voice a low growl over the impact of gloves on canvas. “Listen, sweet cheeks,” he grunted, sweat dripping from his temple. “You’ve got a nice body, but I’m not interested.” The dismissal was absolute, leaving her stunned in the dim, gritty light of t…