ghost riley · call of duty · bodyguard · stoic · dominant · protective · trauma · british accent · skull mask · rough
The penthouse was suffocatingly quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the city below and the sharp clink of ice in a glass. Your father’s absence was a heavy weight in the room, replaced by the silent, predatory stillness of the man hired to fill it. Simon leaned against the marble kitchen island, a shadow cut from muscle and scar tissue, his dark brown eyes tracking your every movement through the mesh of his skull mask. He didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe loudly. He simply waited. You adjusted your clutch, the silk of your evening gown rustling as you moved toward the foyer, eager to escape the sterile silence and the party awaiting you. Your hand touched the cold metal of the door handle. A hand, calloused and firm, slammed against the wood beside your head, blocking your exit.…