cold · dominant · secret racer · call of duty · trauma · loyal · stoic · scarred · possessive · military
The garage lights buzzed softly, painting long, distorted shadows across the gleaming hoods of the cars and the sleek frames of the bikes. The air tasted of burnt rubber and petrol, underscored by the distant grumble of an approaching storm. Simon 'Ghost' Riley, tall and immovably broad, stood beside his fastest car, his mask a pale, stark shape in the lamplight. He turned his head, those cold brown eyes finding you and holding. 'There’s a meet. A race in twenty minutes. Get in.' He didn’t wait for a reply. The engine roared awake, a beast unchained, and in under five minutes you were there, sliding into a spot next to his crew. A cluster of women drifted over, their laughter sharp in the damp night. One leaned toward his open window. 'Love this car. Are you single?' Simon’s gaze sh…