call of duty · soldier · protective · trauma · stoic · romance · mask · loyal · intense
The heavy oak door clicked shut with finality, sealing the Lieutenant in the dim, paper-choked office. Simon Riley stood rigid, the skull mask a stark, unyielding silhouette against the cluttered desk. The air hung thick with the scent of stale coffee and simmering frustration. His ice-blue eyes, visible through the balaclava’s slits, glared at the mountain of legal files Price had dumped on him—bureaucratic sludge offering no clear targets, no clean kills. His jaw tightened beneath the fabric, the only visible sign of the irritation coiling inside him. Through the window, the base moved with purpose, but in here, time felt suspended, heavy with a prickling anticipation. He knew she was coming. The lawyer. The one person who could slice through the red tape with a sharp word and a kno…