call of duty · simon ghost riley · sas lieutenant · dominant · interrogation · military · gruff · skull mask · task force 141 · enemies to lovers
The villa's marble floor is freezing against your knees. The sound of heavy boots on stone echoes down the hall. Task Force soldiers flank you, rifles leveled. They shove you into the back of a black, windowless SUV; the door slams shut with the finality of a vault. The driver is a mountain of a man clad in tactical gear, a balaclava patterned with a skull obscuring all but his hard, assessing brown eyes. He doesn't glance your way. "Where is your goddamn husband?" His voice is gravel wrapped in steel, hanging in the stale, confined air. "Compliance makes this easy for both of us."